


Black and White

by NoiraKai



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Drug Addiction, First Love, M/M, Marching Band, Teenagers, everyone is ooc, minor Cain/Phobos, minor Deimos/Encke, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoiraKai/pseuds/NoiraKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing is black and white, except their school colors of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Lime Gatorade in thin paper cups. A soft breeze, and the already-stifling heat of a mid-morning sun. A sky so blue it was oppressive... a stillness so serene it made you feel weightless. Abel knew these sensations well, and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine that nothing had changed, that he was still at his old school, in his old town, with his old friends. That he was home.

Abel opened his eyes to the familiar-yet-unfamiliar landscape, the straight white lines in the green grass. Practice fields looked the same everywhere, it would seem. One handed, Abel brought his flute up to his lips and whispered a tune into it like the music was wind.

“Ahem.”

“Oh! Sorry.” Startled, Abel jerked his head around, to see Phobos, the assistant drum major, glaring at him, his arms crossed.

Phobos arched an unamused eyebrow. “Abel you know we’re not supposed to play our instruments during water breaks.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet,” Abel acquiesced, slumping his shoulders. Abel hated getting in trouble, and Phobos seemed to never miss an opportunity to call someone out.

“I need to speak with you, please. Over there,” Phobos motioned his head away from the group of students resting in the shade, and towards the end of the field. He spun around and headed that direction, and Abel sighed, tossed his paper cup in the trash and followed.

A shrill whistle barked in the distance, echoing from the field adjacent, where the football team was having their own summer training. Abel tried his best not to gawk at any of their neighbors as he steeled himself for whatever his new drum major had to say.

Turning his back on the other field, Phobos recrossed his arms and glared again. “Cook said that you want to help out with drum major duties.”

“Oh, yeah!” Abel nodded. “It’s just that… at my old school, I was selected to be drum major this year, and I was really looking forward to it, and then my family had to move and--”

“Don’t,” Phobos cut him off with a hard look.

“W-What?” Abel stammered, his heart sinking a little.

“Don’t you even _think_ about trying to steal my spot as drum major. I got it fair and square.”

“No, that’s not it at all!” Abel insisted, putting one hand up in surrender since he was still holding his flute in the other. “I just want to help, if you and Keeler need me, is all. Like maybe if one of you has to miss practice or something? I've been to drum major camp and everything, and Mr. Cook said that I could--”

“I don’t care,” Phobos practically growled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you’re not taking this from me. You need to learn your place, newbie.”

Abel scoffed. “I’m not a newbie, I’m a junior,” he said, rolling his eyes a bit.

“Whatever,” Phobos snapped. “You’re new _here._ You obviously don’t know how things work, and maybe a bit too eager to suck the band director’s dick,” he said, looking Abel up and down judgmentally. Abel’s mouth dropped open, scandalized, but Phobos kept going. “You just need to simmer down, step down, _back_ down-- OW! What the FUCK!”

Out of nowhere, a football had flown in and hit Phobos right in the back of the head, bouncing to the ground with a thud. Abel secretly decided that whoever had thrown it was his favorite person in the whole world, as both he and Phobos turned to the adjacent practice field to see.

“Ow, _Cain!”_ Phobos whined loudly, as a boy with unruly black hair doubled over with laughter. He was joined by a taller boy with dark skin and a commanding posture, whose hearty chuckle seemed to echo for miles. “That hurt!” Phobos shouted at them, worrying at his platinum hair.

“Aw, come on, Phobs!” Cain shrugged. “I was just messin’. Throw it back to me!”

Phobos looked down at the football and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I’m not touching that thing… it’s dirty!”

“I got it…” Abel said helpfully, bending over to retrieve the ball, glad to have a spare practice flute he didn't mind setting in the grass. Standing up straight, he put his whole body into sending the ball flying in a straight line, right back to the boy with the raven hair.

Cain caught it tightly with two hands and flashed an impressed grin at Abel. “Nice throw,” he called out.

“Th-thanks,” Abel beamed, feeling his heart do a somersault in his chest. He was sure he was blushing, but he didn’t care. He’d just impressed a cute _football player_. Maybe this year wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Distracted watching Cain and his friend strut away, Abel suddenly sensed Phobos’s burning eyes on him. He glanced over, not really wanting to shift more than was necessary under the intense gaze, like Phobos was some kind of predator that could only see movement. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Are you _flirting with him?”_ Phobos demanded, his eyes wild, and Abel wondered how such a good-looking guy could make a face so ugly.

“Um… n-no?” Abel lied, inwardly admonishing himself for being so obvious about it.

Phobos shook his head with an attitude equal parts threat and sass. “Don’t. You. Even. Think about it,” he said, taking a step closer to Abel.  “Don’t look at him, don’t touch him, and definitely don’t talk to him.”

“Why?” Abel asked with a shrug.

“Because _that_ …” Phobos pointed down the field at Cain, leaning into the motion with his hips and keeping his eyes trained on Abel. “Is my _boyfriend.”_

Abel pressed his lips together and tried to remember how to breathe.

“You try to steal my drum major position, _or_ my man? And I will ruin you,” Phobos promised. “I will _decimate_ you... I will _annihilate_ you... I will--”

“Okay! Got it,” Abel interrupted, huffing and dragging his gaze across the green grass.

Maybe this year was going to be the worst, ever.

  
  


 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This is it?!” Cain’s mother held up the wad of bills, glaring at him across the small kitchen table. Cain just nodded stoically, not willing to betray his lie, or his aggravation at having to hand over his wages, by speaking unless it was necessary. His mother tsked and shook her head, tilting her cigarette in the middle of her four fingers. “There should be more than this.”

“Well, they do take taxes out and stuff like that, you know,” Cain said casually, tracing a finger over the geometric print of their cheap vinyl tablecloth.

“Still…” she replied, grasping the cigarette between her lips and counting through the bills for the third time. She tsked again, apparently finding it insufficient for a third time as well. “Fine,” she groaned, and made to shove the entire stack into her purse.

“Mother,” Cain said, trying to stop her with a pointed look.

“What,” she snapped at him, glancing up from her fake designer bag, looking like a kid who’d been caught making off with the whole cookie jar.

“I need some of that money for school stuff,” he complained.

She sighed. “What kind of school stuff?” she demanded, an ugly, nasally slur to her voice as if she was never quite sober.

“Well, I need a new pair of cleats, and the stuff on the school supply list, and I’d like to get some new clothes and a haircut,” he tried.

“What do you need new cleats for?” his mother asked with that same disbelieving look in her eyes. “Didn’t I just buy you new cleats?”

“Um, that was two years ago,” Cain said carefully. “They’re too small for me now, and they’re all worn out. I need new ones if I’m gonna be able to keep up with other players--”

Another sigh. _"Useless,"_ his mother said under her breath, as she pulled the bills out and counted out a few. “Here,” she said, handing them to Cain disdainfully. “Here’s a hundred. Make do with that.”

Cain did the math, adding the additional hundred to the amount he’d secretly kept back for himself. He’d still be able to work on weekends during the school year, but not nearly as much. He needed to make his summer money last as long as he could. “A hundred dollars isn’t enough to buy a good pair of cleats and everything else I need for school.”

“Well you should have thought about that during the summer and worked more hours,” his mother scolded, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray and pushing out her chair in one motion. “I told you that you needed to start helping out around here, and I have bills to pay.”

 _Sure you do,_ Cain thought, but kept that remark to himself. “Well, weren’t you gonna get a job?” he said as calmly as he could, knowing it was a topic that could easily start a fight.

“I’m working on it,” she snapped, and walked away, the floor of the trailer quivering with each step, as she stomped into her room and shut the door.

“You’re always working on it,” Cain mumbled to himself, and pulled his buzzing cell phone out of his pocket. The shitty, prepaid thing flashed a message from someone who had been entered as ‘Phobs’:

_“Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late... Don’t be early either.”_

The phone buzzed again as another message came through. _“And ugh, don’t even bother coming at all if you’re gonna show up in clothes you bought at Walmart.”_

Out of the frying pan and into another frying pan, it would seem. Cain pulled himself out of his chair and commenced the ritual preparations for his date.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mmm… oh!” Phobos writhed underneath him, face wrecked by each movement of Cain’s hand in his pants. Cain loved seeing him like this, the stifled little squeaks of pleasure that he made, the way he wrinkled his nose when Cain did something he particularly liked… at least that was how Cain chose to interpret it. He leaned in close and nibbled on Phobos’s ear, careful not to press his own erection against the blond’s leg, because sometimes that freaked him out. But that was okay. Maybe tonight would be different. He’d brought Phobos to his favorite makeout spot overlooking the river, far away from the main road so that Phobos didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing them. He’d put the radio on Phobos’s favorite alternative music station for additional noise cancellation… He’d patiently listened to Phobos go on and on about the chore of deciding what to wear each day of the first week of school, and all his complaints about the dress code… everything was going splendidly so far.

“You like that?” Cain breathed into his ear, and Phobos struggled to nod in response. Cain could tell he was close. “You want me to suck it?”

“AH!” Phobos apparently had, very much, so much that he came just at the suggestion of it. Cain let him buck into his hand, shooting onto his own stomach and then going boneless against the backseat of the car. Curious, Cain stuck his finger into the jizz on Phobos’s stomach, and brought it up to his mouth to suck it clean. It was the first time they’d ever gotten this far, and Cain wanted to savor it like the victory it was.

Phobos watched with a slightly disturbed look on his face, which intensified when Cain leaned forward and tried to kiss him. He pushed Cain away by the forehead, and rearranged them upright in the seat, pulling Cain’s arm around his shoulder and melting into his side.

Cain tolerated it for a few minutes, trying to discreetly adjust his own erection while Phobos recovered, cuddled against him. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he cleared his throat. “Um… Phobs?”

“Hmmm?” Phobos hummed sleepily into his shirt.

“Um, I’m kinda dyin’ over here, heh...” Cain tried.

Phobos pulled away and looked at him. “Oh. Oh yeah,” he said unenthusiastically, making Cain chew on his lip. The blond slowly reached forward, his expression becoming more and more horrified the closer he got to the bulge in Cain’s pants. With a small squeak he finally made contact. Cain tried to close his eyes and just enjoy it, but it was no use, and when he opened his eyes again, Phobos was still making the same awkward face.

Cain grabbed his hand, pulling it only an inch away from his crotch. “Babe.”

“Hmm?” Phobos squeaked, his eyes wild with nerves.

“I’m not… going to be able to… if you’re making that face,” he said with an apologetic smirk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, shnookums!” Phobos said, wringing his hands together. “I’m trying, it’s just… penises are gross!” he declared, shuddering a little.

“Well, I took a shower this time, right before I picked you up,” Cain pointed out, trying and failing not to take Phobos’s disgust personally. Surely it was only some general phobia of dongs or germs or something, that he just needed help facing. Apparently some girls had a similar problem, or so Cain had heard in the locker room at school. “Does that make you feel better?”

Phobos took a few seconds to think about it. He started to nod, but it quickly devolved into a negative side-to-side motion.

“No. Okay,” Cain said gruffly, sitting up a little straighter. “Phobos, have you ever considered, that maybe you like girls?”

“Pssh, as _if,”_ Phobos scoffed. “I could never date a girl prettier than me,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, no, of course not…” Cain agreed. “I mean, it would be hard to _find_ a girl prettier than you.”

Phobos tsked at him and shoved at his chest playfully, which gave Cain some hope that maybe the situation could be salvaged. And frankly at this point, he was willing to do just about anything to get Phobos to touch his penis.

“How about this,” Cain put his hand on Phobos’s knee. “What if I put on a condom? Would that make you feel better?”

Phobos pressed his lips together, eyes unblinking and empty of emotion. Cain could only assume he was deliberating, so he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Maybe,” Phobos said finally. “I think so.”

Cain found his patience renewed by just how adorable Phobos looked when he was scared. “Okay, well, it just so happens,” he said slowly, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “That I have one.” He held it up for Phobos to see, which only had the effect of making Phobos’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. The blond didn’t move, or say anything one way or the other, only stared at the condom like he were afraid it might be made of clowns.

“Okay?” Cain tried. Phobos nodded tightly. _“Okay?”_ Cain asked again to make sure, and Phobos nodded a little more. “Alright, I’m gonna put it on.”

As soon as he undid his zipper, Phobos clapped his hands over his eyes, and Cain was sure it was the cutest and most neurotic thing he’d ever seen. “I don’t mind if you look, you know,” he chuckled as he fiddled with the condom wrapper.

“I don’t think... we’re quite to that stage yet,” Phobos said, his voice muffled by his hands.

Cain silently expressed gratitude to Encke for lending him some condoms. And also to himself for thinking to try one on, so that now he knew what to do, without taking so long that Phobos changed his mind completely. “Okay, it’s on,” he said nervously. “You can um… open your eyes, I guess…”

Phobos peeked between two fingers, one eye peering at his face and then his crotch. He was silent for a few more moments. “Could you maybe… zip your pants back up, too?” he squeaked. “…Please?”

Cain ground his teeth and did what he was asked, and somehow got his throbbing erection back into his pants, holding back a smart remark, and a frustrated sigh.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

First day of school at Baten Kaitos High. Abel had successfully made it through three classes without making a fool of himself, which was a good start. Meandering through the hallway, he looked down at his schedule again, sure he had it memorized, but also certain that going to the wrong class on his first day in a new school would not make a good impression. 

Chemistry, and then lunch. He hiked his backpack further up his shoulder and made his way to the science wing, navigating through the crowd as much as he could without bumping into anyone.

He made it to Mr.  Kessel’s room with two minutes to spare, impeded only by a minor incident involving someone who had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway right in front of him, nearly causing a collision. He slinked into the door, and sighed gratefully as he saw fellow band member Ethos sitting a couple rows back. 

His heart skipped a beat, however, when he realized that in order to sit next to his friend, he’d have to sit right behind Phobos’s boyfriend, Cain. Giving it only a second’s thought, he decided that he could probably sit behind Cain without looking at, talking to, or touching him, and strode forward.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he joked as he sat down on Ethos’s right. 

Ethos laughed. “Are you going to say that in every period today?” 

“Probably,” Abel smiled, then caught sight of some colorful papers that were sticking out of Ethos's Spiderman folder. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at them.

"Oh!" Ethos exclaimed, pulling them out and shoving them at Abel excitedly. "I've been asking some of the other bandies where they want to go on our Spring trip."

Abel flipped through the papers, which were printed out brochures for several different amusement parks and attractions. "You're already thinking about this?!" Abel looked back at Ethos and the radiant look on his face.

"Well I'm treasurer this year, which means if I raise enough money, we can go anywhere in the  _ world!" _

Abel chuckled at him as he skimmed over a page titled  _ Disneyland Paris _ . "That's a bit ambitious, don't you think?" he asked carefully, not wanting to rain on Ethos's parade too much.

Ethos shook his head. "I think if we get started early, we'll have a better shot at it. Don't you?"

"Well, it sounds like you're the right man for the job," Abel assured him, handing him back the papers just as the bell rang. “Hey maybe we can be lab partners," he whispered across the aisle.

“Sure, if the teacher lets us pick,” Ethos shrugged. 

“ Hey,” Cain barked quietly in front of him, making Abel jump. He looked over to see Cain getting the attention of the small boy in front of Ethos by rapping a knuckle on his arm. “Hey...  _ Deimos,”  _ he whispered.

Deimos looked up from something he was doodling on his binder, and tossed the black fringe out of his eyes. Abel noticed he was wearing thick black eyeliner, which made his grey eyes look sad somehow, even as he just blinked stoically at Cain. 

“You’re gonna be my lab partner,” Cain declared, motioning between them with one finger. Abel wondered to himself if Deimos or Mr. Kessel had any say in the matter, but Deimos didn’t seem to mind, nodding enthusiastically and giving Cain a tiny smile.

“Alright, students, quiet please,” the teacher was saying at the front of the class, looking down at something on his podium. “Abel?”

“Um, yes?” Abel responded, not sure what was going on. 

Mr. Kessel glanced up at him for a moment and then marked something down. “Cain?”

“Yeah,” the dark-haired boy called out. 

Mr. Kessel glared at Cain over his glasses, not saying anything about the boy’s rude tone, though it was clear he’d noticed. “You two will be lab partners for the semester,” he declared, marking on his paper again. “Deimos?”

Heart sinking, Abel just stared in mild horror as Cain turned in his seat to look at him with a discerning glare. If he recognized Abel from their brief encounter at the practice fields, he didn’t let on or say anything. He just studied Abel for a long moment and then turned back around.

“Ethos?”

“Present!” the curly-haired blond answered cheerfully, earning some groans from the other students.

“You and Deimos will be lab partners,” Mr. Kessel said. 

Doing a quick calculation, Abel realized that if he hadn’t been in the class, Cain and Deimos would have been assigned together. He sunk into his chair a bit, and wondered if Cain would be mad at him for screwing up the alphabet itself. 

  
  


Once the teaching portion of the class and the instructions for the lab were over, Abel followed Cain over to one of the lab stations, trying not to admire how muscular his back was when he walked. Most students were wearing brand new clothes, eager to impress on the first day, but Cain had worn a pretty distressed-looking black t-shirt that had faded to a charcoal grey. It was like he didn’t even  _ care.  _ And Abel didn't know what to make of that, but he found it attractive for some reason. Or maybe it was brand new and was supposed to look that. Sometimes it was hard to tell. “Um,” Abel started, trying to work up to what he wanted to say.

“You understand this stuff?” Cain asked, looking over at Abel, and giving him a chance to gaze into his big black eyes and forget what he was going to say.

“Um, sure, but--”

“Good, at least one of us does,” Cain chuckled. “You can be my little science worker elf.”

“E-excuse me?” Abel stammered.

“You know, how sometimes jocks have nerds that do their homework for them?” Cain explained. “I’m just pulling your chain, though.”

“Oh.” Abel’s eyes darted around the room, trying to remember his train of thought. “Well, actually I was going to suggest that we switch partners.”

Cain’s brow ruffled. He actually had the decency to look  _ hurt _ . “Why?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be partners with Deimos?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Cain insisted, smirking and leaning sideways against the countertop. “It’s fine.”

“No, I… I really think we should see if Mr. Kessel will let us switch,” Abel tried again.

Once again, Cain studied Abel with those dark, inescapable eyes. “What, do I smell or something?”

“No! It’s not that,” Abel said quickly, not wanting Cain to think he disliked him. “I’m sure you smell wonderful, it’s just… Phobos told me I couldn’t talk to you.”

Cain snorted, clearly thinking Abel was kidding, until Abel didn’t laugh. “He said that?” 

Abel nodded. 

“Well,” Cain huffed. “Phobos ain’t the boss of me,” he asserted confidently.

“ Well he is the boss of  _ me,” _ Abel said quietly. “He could make my life pretty miserable.”

Cain studied him for a few seconds, shifting his posture as he stared Abel down and put one hands on his hip, the other fidgeting with a silver ring he wore on his thumb. Then he turned to the front of the room, where the teacher was working on his computer. “Hey, Mr. Kessel!” he called out irreverently.

Kessel looked over, once again silently disapproving of Cain’s tone. “Yes?” 

“Can we switch partners?” Cain asked.

The teacher closed his eyes and slowly opened them, somehow expressing in that single motion intense exasperation. “Is there a problem with your assigned partner?”

“No, I was just wondering if you would let me be partners with Deimos.”

Abel looked over to where Ethos and Deimos had set up their lab, secretly wishing he could disappear and avoid the embarrassment he had somehow brought upon himself.

“No switching will be allowed,” Mr. Kessel answered, looking around the room to make sure the class knew it applied to everyone. 

Cain turned back to Abel, shrugging and giving him a humorless smile, as if to say  _ told you so,  _ even though Abel was sure that he hadn’t.

“Okay, I guess we need to go get our equipment,” Abel sighed. “We need to hurry or we won’t finish.”

“Okay, what do I need to do?” Cain asked.

“You go get ready to measure out the ingredients on the scale, and I’ll get some glassware and meet you over there.”

“Got it,” Cain wandered away, looking down with a hard stare at his instruction sheet. This made Abel pretty nervous. He silently bemoaned getting stuck with a lab partner who didn’t know what he was doing, as he picked up some beakers from the station. It could hurt his grades. It might even mean he made a B!

"But seriously,” Cain continued when Abel met him at the scales with a few glass containers, like he was picking up on a conversation they’d already been having. “If Phobos gives you any trouble, let me know,” he said quietly. “He's all bark and no bite anyway... I'm the biter in the relationship."

"I… I think that's really more than I needed to know," Abel said, his voice quivering and a little pink glowing in his cheeks. God, the last thing he needed to be thinking about was Cain and Phobos having amazing, bitey sex with each other. 

Cain chuckled at him. "Hey, you're the one that made it sexual,” he accused with another innocent shrug.

Abel looked up from his beaker and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Who said I made it sexual?"

The other boy narrowed his eyes at Abel, but didn’t say anything else. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

When he was little, Cain’s mother had taught him, that if you lit a candle while cooking a meal, it could infuse magical properties into the food, depending on what color of candle you chose. Cain didn’t really put much stock in that kind of stuff, but it was a habit now, and preparing food without candles on the counter just felt… weird and strangely empty.

Hands on his hips, he stared at his mother’s large collection of candles, trying to decide which one to use. White, for protection and strong bones? Yellow, to help him with his studying? Orange, to make the food taste better? Pink, to help sort out difficulties in romantic relationships?

Cain frowned, eyes darting between all of his rather appealing options. For something he didn’t believe in, he was taking way too long to decide. “Oh fuck it,” he said finally, and grabbed the yellow one, the orange one, and the pink one and carried them into the kitchen, awkwardly bunched between his hands. If one candle was good, then surely three were even better.

With the flames of his trio of candles dancing happily, he set up a pot to boil some eggs, and took some beans he’d cooked that weekend out of the fridge and put them in the microwave. While that was in progress, he had to chop up the assortment of vegetables he'd bought at the grocery store earlier that day: broccoli, carrots, red peppers, and an ear of sweet corn.

Carefully slicing up some florets of broccoli, Cain heard a peal of laughter coming from his mother's bedroom, and paused to roll his eyes. She had company, of the male persuasion, and it was a very small trailer that they lived in, after all. Cain got a little bit rougher with his broccoli, taking out his frustration as the sounds continued from the other room.

"Ohhh... baby, I'm not sure it's gonna fit," he heard his mother say through the wall.

"That's interesting, 'cause you say that to all of them," Cain muttered, and slapped his knife down on the cutting board with a metallic _thunk_. He stomped back over to the collection of candles, picked out a sky blue one for tranquility, and brought it over to his workspace, using the yellow candle's flame to light it. "That's better," he sighed, and then went back to the preparations for his meal.

The sounds from the other room didn't go away, of course; they only got louder and more fervent as Cain finished cooking and then carried his salad to the table to eat. But Cain was mostly used to it, and it helped that he had some Chemistry homework to distract him. It was only a week into school and already the subject would have been kicking his ass if not for his new friend Abel. His new, incredibly kind, incredibly good looking friend, Abel.

But Cain couldn't let himself think about that. Pushing it out of his mind, he poured a generous helping of ranch and grated cheese into the bowl and started reading over the chapter in between bites.

 

The bedroom door opened some time later, Cain’s mother and her guest giggling and tripping over each other down the hall. "C'mon, honey, I'll get you another beer,” his mother said, pulling her guest along by the hand. With a quick look, Cain noted it was one of the more recent additions to his mother's long list of boyfriends. He never bothered to learn their names, but some of them futilely tried to get in good with him. Like this one.

“Oh, hey, buddy, how’s it going?” the stranger asked, leaning against the wall that partitioned the living area from the kitchen/dining area. Cain barely looked up at him, shooting daggers. He was a good looking guy, and he knew it, too by the way he carried himself, a smile like he was the answer to everyone’s problems. He was also significantly younger than Cain’s mom. Cain just glared at the guy for a moment and went back to his homework. He wasn’t interested in being buddies with anyone like that.

“What are you eating?" his mother asked with a frown, scrunching up her nose at the bowl in front of him.

"Um, a salad?" Obviously.

She tsked at him. "What did I tell you about buying all of those expensive vegetables?” she scolded, then turned to her guest. “I swear he thinks he's the chef in a five star restaurant,” she said, and they both laughed.

Cain had instantly had enough. Giving his mother a murderous glare, he slammed his pen down on the table. "Okay, first of all? This literally costs, like, a dollar a serving to make. I'm eating two servings of it, because I'm a fucking football player, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Don't talk to me like that--"

"You started it. I was just sitting in here minding my own business,” Cain snapped back. “Second of all, it's my fucking money, and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with it. If you don't like the groceries I bring home, then you can get yourself a job and buy your own fucking groceries.”

"I told you, I'm working on it,” she growled at him, pointing a warning finger. Neither of them noticed as the stranger started to inch his way towards the door. “In the meantime, you have a responsibility to this house--"

"Whatever,” Cain interrupted. “I have a responsibility to myself."

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, taking a step closer as she spoke low and dangerously. "You selfish, ungrateful, useless little shit! After _everything_ I've done for you--"

_SLAM._

She whipped her head over to look at the door, and then at Cain, throwing up her hands like he owed her an explanation. "Look what you did! He probably won't come back now,” she scolded.

Cain pushed his chair away from the table and scooped up his salad and his Chemistry homework. "Lucky him,” he said halfway under his breath, and stomped into his room.


	5. Chapter 5

"So how does it work?" Cain demanded during their lab a week later, looking surprisingly dorky in his big safety goggles and gloves. He crossed his arms over his apron, giving Abel a glare that he must have learned from Phobos. "Explain, science elf."

"Weren't you paying attention to the lesson?" Abel scolded playfully, holding the experiment in two gloved hands.

 _"Yes,"_ Cain replied, copping an almost flirtatious attitude, though maybe Abel was just imagining it. "I get the part about how carbon dioxide won't turn into a liquid unless it's at 5.1 atmosphere. I just don't understand where the extra four atmosphere is coming from."

"Oh, that's easy!" Abel answered, gesturing to the device he was holding, a thick plastic tube with clamps at both ends. In the middle of the tube was a pool of liquid carbon dioxide. "See, at normal pressure, the dry ice turns directly into a gas. And gas takes up a whole lot more space than a solid. At least it would, but it doesn't have anywhere to go because of the clamps. It's trapped in the tube, trying to get out."

"Oh, so it's the CO2 itself that's causing the pressure!" Cain exclaimed, pointing at the tube excitedly.

"Exactly!" Abel gave him a big, encouraging smile, which Cain returned, before clamping his teeth down on his lip in this half-seductive, half-predatory way.

Blushing, Abel cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. "Why... why don't you do the second part?" he suggested, taking a quick glance around the room. The other groups were still working on the first half of the lab, and through some unnecessary sense of competition, Abel wanted to finish first.

"Okay," Cain said nervously, looking down at his equipment. "So I all I have to do is, scoop some dry ice into this pipette... clamp it down... and then put it in the cup of water?" He looked over at Abel once he'd completed this set of steps.

"Yep, you got it."

Cain watched the pipette for a few seconds, then his posture slumped as he got impatient with it. "So why do I have to put it in a cup of -- FUCK!" Cain jumped about a foot backwards as the pressure inside the plastic pipette became too much, exploding liquid CO2 everywhere, which turned into white mist. Abel couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Is it supposed to do that?!" Cain yelped.

"Yes, Cain, it is," Mr. Kessel answered from the front of the room. "But you are not _supposed_ to use explicatives," he said sourly.

"Oh, come on, I was startled," Cain argued. "You could have warned us that this lab would have explosions in it--"

"Don't argue with me, Cain," the teacher warned, looking at him over his glasses. Abel watched the scene with wide eyes, wondering if he could sublime himself into an invisible gas.

"I'm just pointing out how absurd it is to get onto me, when it was clearly an accident," Cain said, throwing up his hands. "And besides, according to the First Amendment to the Constitution, I can say whatever I want, just in case you’d forgotten!"

"You are certainly free to say whatever you want... in the principal's office," Mr. Kessel declared.

"What?! That's not fair!" Cain barked him, hands turning into fists at his sides.

"Get out of my classroom," the teacher ordered, pointing at the door.

"...Fine!" Cain muttered, ripped off his goggles, gloves and apron and stormed out of the room, leaving Abel to ignore the hushed whispers and finish the lab by himself.

 

* * *

 

“Okay everyone, settle down!” Drum major Keeler cheerily got everyone's attention, voice clear and loud through a megaphone so the tuba players at the top of the stands could hear him. Of course that meant that since Abel was a flute player, and right next to Keeler, he was going a bit deaf. “This is our first home game, so we want to make sure and play well for the Sea Monster crowd, okay?” Keeler didn’t really wait for a response before moving on. “We have a few more minutes before the game starts, so we’re going to announce the Bandie of the Week!”

Some of the band members expressed their interest with oo’s and aah’s, but Abel’s attention was already drawn back to the field, where the football team was warming up. He had quickly memorized Cain’s jersey number in the last game, and so was able to pick him out toward the center of the field, bending over in his stark black jersey. It had a bold white ‘23’ on the back, the reflective silver outline catching the rays of the evening sun.

And then there were the white tights. Mostly, Abel was looking at the tights.

“It’s Abel!” Keeler called out, and started clapping excitedly.

“What? Oh!” Abel hunched his shoulders, not remembering what the Bandie of the Week was supposed to do. Off to the side, Phobos was golf-clapping and looking incredibly displeased.

“Come on!” Keeler waved Abel forward, so he stood up and made his way over to the drum major. “Over the past few weeks, Abel has been so friendly and helpful to everyone,” Keeler said into the megaphone, squeezing Abel under his arm. “He may be new to Baten Kaitos, but he sure knows how to show school spirit! This is much deserved.” Keeler turned to Abel. “Abel, you will get to go over with the officers to greet the other band in the second half. You may also choose a funny hat out of the bag to wear in the stands,” he said, and held out a large black sack.

“Wow, thanks, what an honor,” Abel said, half sarcastically. He reached into the bag and picked the hat he thought most fit his sense of style, a sparkly silver tiara. He made a show of setting it into his hair and doing a silly curtsy for the cheering band members, before settling back down in his seat.

Now that that was over, he could go back to watching the field.

He looked back to where he’d seen Cain before, but the players were already exiting the field and getting ready for the coin toss. He quickly scanned the sidelines. There was Deimos, a student trainer, sternly handing a cup of gatorade to Cain’s tall friend from that day at the practice fields. Then there was Porthos, a double dipper who marched with the band at halftime, and Coach Bering, the head coach, whom Abel was terrified of. He just looked like he might eat band nerds for breakfast.

And there was Cain, looking up right at him! Abel’s chest seized at the sight. Cain was ferocious, and hot, with two lines of black smudged on his cheeks, and a cold look in his eyes. Cain pointed to his own head, and then held up his hands, miming a question to Abel about his hat.

Abel just gave him a smug grin and an exaggeratedly royal-looking wave before Phobos could see what he was doing. Cain chuckled at him, mouthing something like ‘princess’, before turning around to exchange good-luck punches in the arm with another player.

 

* * *

 

“I want to have Cain’s babies,” Abel declared the next day in the food court out of nowhere, making Ethos nearly choke on his fries.

“Um,” Ethos replied, only half recovered from his brush with death. “Um… you are aware that you are biologically male and therefore unable to bear offspring?”

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Abel asserted, giving Ethos a determined nod.

“You are also aware that Cain is with Phobos,” Ethos reminded with an equally-weighted tilt of his head.

“Yeah,” Abel conceded, sighing wistfully, once again trying not to imagine how hot Phobos and Cain must have looked while they were nakedly celebrating the previous night’s victory. He could only assume that Phobos knew how to do things that Abel had never heard of. What else could Cain possibly see in him? “I know… I just can’t stop thinking about him. And it doesn’t even seem like he and Phobos like each other,” he complained.

“That’s true,” Ethos admitted, swirling a french fry into a cup of ketchup before chomping on it.

“And we get along so well in Chemistry class… if I didn’t know better I’d think he liked me.”

“When he’s _in_ Chemistry class,” Ethos noted.

“Oh, come on, he only got sent to the principal’s office, like, that one time,” Abel argued.

“Yeah, but he really does seem to get on Mr. Kessel’s bad side a lot,” Ethos winced. "That was quite the fit he threw the other day."

“It wasn’t a _fit_. Cain was just pointing out about the bill of rights and freedom of speech and stuff,” Abel reminded him. “It was actually kind of… heroic in a way…”

Ethos made a face. “I’m pretty sure that saying the F-word in the middle of Chemistry class isn’t covered by the bill of rights,” he said. “Nor is it heroic.”

“Yeah, well...” Abel mumbled, picking at his lunch with his fork.

Ethos got a rather thoughtful look on his face. “Hmm, you like bad boys, though, don’t you?”

“Tch, I don’t think Cain is a bad boy?” Abel pondered. “He’s just... misunderstood... is all.”

Ethos chuckled at him sympathetically. “Yeah, okay, Abel. Whatever you say…” he mused, and then chomped down another french fry.

"Anyway," Abel said, hoping to change the subject away from something so depressing. "How's the band treasury doing?"

Ethos shrugged. "It's going okay. Turns out I really don't have a lot of power, actually. It's just a nominal position."

"Oh," Abel said, frowning at Ethos's dejected look. "I'm sorry. I could tell you were really excited about it."

"Yeah..." Ethos sighed, still playing with his fries and ketchup. "The parents have an organization that raises money. Mostly I just get to tell them if the students have something they want, like new loaner instruments or something like that. And I get to help in class, collecting the money students raise in our annual candy sale. But that's about it."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" Abel tried. "At least you don't have to organize the fundraising all by yourself?"

"Yeah, but we never make enough money to go on a real trip," Ethos complained. "Just maybe a day trip to Space City or something like that," he groaned.

Abel quirked up an eyebrow at that. "What is... 'Space City' exactly?" he inquired.

Huffing out a sigh, Ethos slumped a bit in his chair. "Just this lame, old, run-down theme park that everyone's been to a bazillion times on various field trips," he answered, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm," Abel agreed that didn't sound like a very good trip, even if he hadn't been there a bazillion times himself. But out of state trips meant buses and hotel rooms and all kinds of expenses. "Well, maybe as the treasurer, you can tell the parents that Space City is just not gonna cut it, and they need to step up their game," he asserted, making Ethos smile a little.

"Yeah," the other boy sighed longingly. "I would think that grown-ups would know more about making money than teenagers anyway."

Abel nodded as he swallowed down some more of his food. "You know, before my dad went into politics, he was a very successful businessman," he mentioned.

"Oh really?" Ethos replied, eyes lighting up. "Do you think he might help us?"

"Er, probably not," Abel winced, imagining his father's _go away I'm busy_ frown. "But he always says, that the best way to make money, is to find a need or want that's not being met, and charge the crap out of people to meet it."

"Well that seems kind of mean," Ethos said, frowning at him like it was Abel’s own idea.

Abel shrugged. "It's true though," he admitted. "Maybe you can find a need or want, and suggest a way to meet it."

"What I _need_ is to not go to Space City again," Ethos groaned, making them both laugh.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Yeah, god forbid people actually have fun while they learn,” was the comment that got Cain sent to the principal’s office the second time. He and Abel had been working on their experiment, but apparently a little too happily for Mr. Kessel’s liking. Feeling at least partially responsible, and maybe a little attracted to Cain’s freedom-fighter style of rebellion, he didn’t know what else to do except make it up to him.

He approached Cain’s locker with a somewhat disappointed look on his face all the same, holding out a couple sheets of paper until Cain turned around and noticed him. “Hey?” Cain greeted him with a bewildered quirk of his eyebrow.

Abel begrudgingly handed him the papers. “I copied my lab notes for you.”

“Oh, cool,” Cain took the notes and stuffed them into his binder, with not even as much as a thank you. Abel wondered if they’d ever see the light of day again. He continued glaring at him until Cain’s posture started to wilt under his gaze. “What?” he sulked.

“Kessel has got it out for you, Cain! You’ve got to be careful,” Abel pleaded.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Cain complained. “The only thing I got in trouble for was ‘being disruptive,’ which is bullshit.”

“You questioned the teacher’s authority in front of the whole classroom,” Abel reminded him. “That’s disruptive.”

“Well maybe his authority should be questioned,” Cain snapped back. “It’s not my fault I’m the only one with the balls to do it! What am I supposed to do, just not say anything?”

“Essentially, yes,” Abel answered, and Cain tsked and rolled his eyes. “If you want to keep your grades up, then you’re gonna have to just grin and bear it in Kessel’s class. He’s just a chemistry teacher, not a dictator. And I bet Coach Bering wouldn’t be very happy if--”

“What are you doing?”

Abel immediately recognized Phobos’s voice, and whipped his head around to the source of the question. “Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, Phobs,” Cain said flatly, eyes darting in between the two blonds, clearly sensing trouble.

“What the hell is this?” Phobos demanded, eyes burning with jealousy. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?”

“It couldn’t really be helped, Phobos,” Abel replied, straightening his posture and trying to sound as confident as he could. “We’re lab partners in chemistry and--”

“You’re _what?!”_ Phobos shrieked, turning his fiery gaze on the frowning Cain. Had Cain not told him about that?

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” Cain asked his boyfriend, giving him a scrutinizing look Abel knew all too well. “Abel and I are friends, that’s all.”

 _Friends._ Abel’s heart did a somersault anyway. Friends was good. He could deal with friends.

Phobos’s glare once again made its way to Abel. “Piss off,” he growled.

Cain put a hand out to try and intercede. “Now wait a minute--”

“It’s fi -- fine,” Abel interrupted, taking a few steps backwards, looking at Phobos and then at Cain. “Notice how I’m walking away from the situation, and not saying anything to make it worse. Maybe you can… can learn something from that,” he said coldly, and then turned his back on the two of them, shaking as he tried to hurry away, even though suddenly everything felt like it was going in slow motion.

He was late for class for the first time all year.

 

* * *

 

 

His mother snapped a card onto the coffee table at the same time Cain stepped through the door, the last of a set of three. It was her guest that looked up to greet him however, the twenty-something wannabe hippie with auburn hair, named Vicks. “Oh hey, man, how’s it goin’?” he said with a bright smile and a slur.

“Fine,” Cain mumbled through gritted teeth, set on edge by their guest and the sight of his mother taking a long hit of a joint, as she turned over the middle card. As if this day hadn’t been shitty enough already. He pulled his sneakers off his feet and left them by the door, then rolled his backpack off his shoulder, wrestling with the shitty zipper and pulling out a shitty piece of paper and a shitty pen.

“Page of Cups, reversed…” his mother drawled, blowing smoke into the room, and looked up from the card with some effort. “Someone is deceiving you,” she said to Vicks cryptically.

Vicks’ expression darkened, but not nearly as much as Cain’s. He was familiar enough with Tarot to know the card could also represent childishness, drug abuse, and a disassociation from reality, which fittingly summed up how he felt about the present scene. Even though that was a paradox in and of itself.

His paper catching the light of flickering candles, Cain padded over, sitting on the couch above where his mother was kneeling on the carpet, reaching out for the second card. “Mother?” he tried.

She looked up at him, or at least she looked in his general vicinity, eyes threatening to wander in separate directions. “Can you not see that I’m in the middle of a reading?” she scolded.

“I just need you to sign something for school,” Cain explained, nudging the paper and pen forward.

“In a minute,” she snapped, with all the bite of a lazy teenage girl, and looked away. Then something invisible startled her. “Your energy is _fucked,”_ she said to Cain in hazy disgust, holding out her hand as if to stave him off. She reached for a small bottle of holy water on the table and poured some into her hand, then turned back to Cain and flicked her fingers, scrunching up her face as she ineffectively sprinkled him. Cain frowned at the back of her head and wiped his arm off, as she turned her attention back to flipping over the card on the right.

“The High Priestess!” she gasped, a reverent tremor in her voice. A woman seated between a black pillar and a white pillar, with a crescent moon at her feet, the High Priestess was his mother’s favorite card. Her presence in the reading needed no explanation for anyone in the room.

His mother hesitated with her hand over the last card, building up to it before finally flipping it over. “Eight of Pentacles. Reversed,” she said, folding her hands together and thoughtfully bringing them to her lips. Vicks looked even more intrigued, rubbing his chin between his thumb and index finger. Cain wanted to laugh at how enraptured they looked, but figured he’d be in enough trouble already once the reading was through.

“Normally this card would mean pleasure in doing one’s job,” his mother explained. “But reversed, it could mean a sense of... tedium. Doing the same thing over and over again, making the same mistakes over and over again. This is your past,” she said to Vicks, talking with her hands. “In order for you to be successful in the future, you must figure out how to break the cycle.”

Vicks nodded. “And what about this person who’s deceiving me?” he said, voice sharp and agitated as he pointed at the middle card.

“It could be… someone like an apprentice,” Cain’s mother guessed. “You need to stop trusting in this same person, and learn to rely on someone new,” she suggested, hovering her hand over the card on the right. She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, sensing something. “However the Priestess insists that she will reveal the identity of the deceiver to you, soon. As well as their replacement. You will know. Trust your intuition.” Cain breathed out a carefully silent and impatient sigh, and thought better than to warn his mother to reinterpret the cards for her own life. The cards could apply to anyone present, after all.

Right, Cain realized. The cards could apply to _him_.

“Thank you, Priestess,” Vicks nodded again, only the slightest hint of insincerity in his voice. “I think you’ve more than earned your discount for this week,” he said, pulling himself up off the floor.

“I am happy to be of service,” Cain’s mother answered, slightly bowing her head. Cain just surreptitiously rolled his eyes.

His mind wandering elsewhere, Cain tensed up again as Vicks said goodbye and made his way out the door. He would have to face his own moment of truth now. Once Vicks was gone, his mother turned to him with a scowl on her face. “Your energy could have fucked up that entire reading,” she complained.

Cain resisted the urge to make a grouchy comeback. It would only prove to her that she was right. “Would you sign this?” he said instead.

“What is it?” his mother demanded, taking the paper from him and squinting at it.

“It’s a letter from the principal,” Cain answered, keeping the emotion out of his voice and bracing himself for a good chewing out.

But his mother just let out an annoyed huff and took the pen from his other hand, putting the paper down on the table to begrudgingly scribble her signature. She flapped the paper at him noisily, letting him take it from her without saying another word.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, if it isn’t the Princess of the Science Elves,” Cain said by way of announcing himself, smirking and leaning against the locker next to Abel’s like he _belonged_ there.

“Hey,” Abel replied with a shy smile, not really able to find any other words. Cain had never come to his locker before, had certainly never hailed him like that before, and while Abel was overjoyed he was there, he didn’t want another run-in like the one several weeks prior. Phobos had been giving him death glares ever since, so Abel did his best to stay clear of him.

Things stayed pretty much the same with Cain in Chemistry class, and for that, Abel was grateful. Even if it felt like a kick in the gut every time he made Cain smile. Like he was doing now. Apparently.

“So…” Cain said, and was that a bit of… insecurity in his voice? “Got a date for Homecoming?”

Now why the hell would Cain be asking about that?

“Oh, _no…”_ Abel laughed nervously. “But I’m not really worried about it. Like at _all,”_ he said, trying hard to convince himself by saying it as fast and emphatically as possible.

Cain’s eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. “No?”

“No,” Abel scoffed. “I mean I’m in the band anyway, and so it’s not like I could sit with my date at the game, and I don’t really like dances,” he shrugged, looking at his shoes to help him choose his next words carefully. “I get kind of anxious in big crowds of people? So… it would be pointless, really,” he explained.

“Hmm, that’s true,” Cain said quietly, also looking at Abel’s shoes as if to see what the big fuss was about. “It’s... kind of pointless for me too, being on the field and all.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Abel concurred.

“And school dances _are_ pretty lame.”

“Right…”

Cain sighed. “Okay then, well... see you around!” he said, with a slightly less enthusiastic smile than before, and walked away.

Abel stood there at his locker with his mouth hanging open. What the hell? Had Cain just--??? No. Surely not. No. That would never happen. Not in a million years.

Abel banged his head against the front of his locker anyway, just in case.

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright everyone, get your jackets on, it’s almost half-time!” Keeler said into the megaphone. Abel fidgeted with the buttons of his black uniform while keeping his eyes on the field. Cain was out there, standing behind the defensive line, shouting something to the other players before getting into position for the snap. The game was tied up at the moment, and if the Sea Monsters won this game, they would qualify for the playoffs.

Abel had always known a thing or two about football, thanks to his mother, who always followed it at the college level. But he’d taken the time to learn even more about it, on the off-chance he might have an opportunity to impress Cain again some time.

Cain was the middle linebacker, and the captain of the defensive squad of the team, it turned out. Which meant that he was in charge of making sure the other team didn’t score. Which meant that no one really expected him to do what he did next.

There was a rush of commotion, and Abel temporarily lost sight of where the ball was, which was not unusual. But then suddenly Cain emerged from the fray, ball tucked under his arm, and started booking it towards the endzone. As Abel stared, there was a quick crescendo of noise from the stands as people realized what was happening, and by the time Cain made it to the end of the field, most everyone was standing and screaming at the top of their lungs. Including Abel.

“Fight Song!” Keeler screamed, not even bothering with the megaphone, and quickly began counting off the band, which had been caught in the middle of getting ready for halftime and not expecting their defense to score. Abel had the song memorized, so he just brought his flute up to his lips and played, while watching their score on the board go up six points, and Cain and the other players celebrating down below with lots of bouncing and jovial chest bumps. Another squad ran onto the field to go for the extra point, which was successful, so Keeler signaled for a repeat of the Fight Song, before rushing everyone out of the stands to get ready for their performance.

“Hey guys?” Karl, the bass drum player said as they descended the stairs. “Porthos wanted me to tell you all there’s a big party tonight at his house. Everyone in the band’s invited. His parents bought a keg and everything.”

Phobos looked back with a thoughtful expression. “...I might make an appearance,” he said with an air of disdain, then looked at Abel with a warning glare. Abel stared right back at him, swallowing hard as he surmised that meant he should un-invite himself from the party.

“Your overachiever boyfriend is invited too!” Karl teased.

Phobos looked back again; this time he scowled. “As if. He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Abel’s veins turned to ice. “What?” he blurted out quietly. To his relief, it seemed Phobos hadn’t heard.

Feeling numb and partially deaf with his heart pounding in his chest, Abel made his way down the stairs and onto the track that surrounded the football field, wide eyes darting between Cain in stark black, and Phobos in blinding white, the two of them almost tangibly ignoring each other. It made sense. He actually hadn’t seen them talking to each other in… weeks...

“C’mon Abel, get lined up,” Keeler reminded him cheerfully, jolting him out of his stupor. Abel just nodded at him and got into position, right there on the end of the row closest to the sidelines. Cain was only a few feet away, downing a cup of gatorade, his hair grown out so long he had tied it into a small ponytail. He looked freaking hot. And he was single, apparently. And had come very close to asking Abel to Homecoming.

“Hey, Cain!” Abel shouted before he could really think about what he was doing.

Cain looked over his shoulder, a confused look on his face, which looked more menacing, thanks to the black streaks on his cheeks. But then he caught sight of Abel and all that melted away. “Oh hey!” he said, turning all the way around with a smile.

 _Shit what do I say now?_ Abel thought in a panic. “Uh… nice touchdown!” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Oh thanks…” Cain smiled even bigger and boastfully widened his stance. “You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Abel admitted, chewing on his lip a little. How did Cain manage to make everything sound sexual? “I think you should do it again,” he said back.

“Haha, okay,” Cain nodded audaciously, accepting a challenge.  “ _For you,”_ he mouthed, pointing at Abel and giving him a waggle of his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the game.

There Abel’s heart went, doing a flip in his chest again. Face burning, he turned back into the formation and caught Ethos gaping at him.  “ _What was that about?”_ the curly-headed blond whispered at him.

Abel just shrugged and pressed his lips together, fighting back a smile.

 

The rest of the game was pretty much a blur after that. Except of course when Cain did exactly what he said he would do, and intercepted another play in the second half, and made another touchdown.

This time, Abel just sat there with his jaw on the floor, not even remembering to play his flute until the Fight Song was halfway through.

 

* * *

 

The locker room after the game quickly became a mosh pit, an ever-changing sea of shouts and cheers and chest bumps and slaps on the back and occasionally the butt. Cain found himself in the middle of the mob, doing his best to stay on his feet as he was dragged along by the aimlessly raucous momentum. Eventually, the mob organized itself around the head coach, who just stood there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head and trying not to look pleased.

“I don’t know what you boys are so excited about,” Bering said over the cheers of the players. “I win Homecoming games all the time!” This only served to make the team louder, some of them jeering and booing, all in good fun, of course.

“I don’t know what you’re hoopin’ and hollerin’ for… I qualify for the playoffs all the time!” Bering said even louder, and Cain was sure there was about to be a riot for all the noise. “Alright, alright, settle down,” Bering said, and then blew into his whistle to really get their attention. “Settle down…” he repeated, motioning with his hands for the boys to sit or kneel if they could. He held up a football and scanned around the room. “Game ball… goes to Cain!”

Eyes lighting up, Cain stepped forward, beaming as he took the ball from Bering and shook his hand. Returning to his seat on the bench, he was greeted with more shoulder slaps and a few head rubs. Not a drug in his system, but Cain was high as a kite.

Bering waited for the players to calm down before going on. “Two return touchdowns in one game,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what got into you, tonight, son, but keep it up,” he said to Cain.

“Yes, sir,” Cain answered, to a few more whoops and whistles from his teammates. He knew exactly what it was that had gotten into him, and exactly what he was going to do about it once their debriefing was over.

“However,” Bering said, holding up a single finger. He was met with a few sounds of disappointment. “ _However,”_ he repeated louder, “-- and this goes for the rest of you, too -- We want to be the best. We are the best. And if we’re gonna go all the way this year, we need every single one of you in playable condition. _Safety_ is more important than winning. And winning is fucking important,” he said, causing some snickers amongst the team. “If the offense had been a little bit better… a little bit faster to react… Cain could have gotten seriously hurt. Our upcoming opponents are gonna be watching the tapes. And now they’re gonna be watching you,” he looked down at Cain with a hard glare. “Be careful with yourself,” he warned with a gruff voice. Cain just nodded tightly, feeling his ego slowly deflate along with the energy in the room.

“And that brings me to my next topic,” Bering continued, folding his arms and staring the players down. “I know you boys are excited tonight. It’s Homecoming, and therefore some of you are hellbent on doing something stupid. You all think you’re supermen,” he almost taunted. “You’re not.”

Cain had heard this speech before. Slumping over, he turned his attention to the game ball, slowly turning it over in his hands and only half-listening.

“Know this,” Bering said sternly. “If you do manage to die of your stupidity, I will personally traverse the gates of death to torment your soul in the afterlife. If you manage to _not_ die, I’ll make you wish that you had. And if you hurt someone _else?_ Mmm…” Bering grunted, as if overcome with something between righteous fury and painful disappointment. “I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” he growled. “ _Don’t_ drink and drive. _Don’t_ get high and drive. _Don’t_ have unprotected sex... and drive,” he said with a shrug, earning a few uncomfortable chuckles. "And _don’t_ let your stupid friends do it either. And _don’t_ mistake this lecture, for me enabling you, or permitting you, or condoning you to do anything. You understand me?”

“Yes _sir…”_ Cain said along with the rest of his teammates, eager for it to be over with. He had somewhere he wanted to be.

“Alright,” Bering clapped his hands together. “Offensive captain and defensive captain, stay behind for a minute… everyone else is dismissed.”

 

“Encke,” Bering said once the rest of the team was gone, and it was just the three of them standing there.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great job, tonight. Some great plays we can add to your highlights reel.”

“Thank you, sir,” Encke replied, grinning from ear to ear. Cain chuckled at him, and gave him a congratulatory punch in the arm.

“Keep this up, and I think you'll have a great shot at that scholarship you're after," Bering assured him, and Encke somehow managed to smile even bigger. "Did you have any notes from the game?” Bering asked, not looking up from his clipboard.

“I was only gonna say what you already did, sir,” Encke answered. “Cain was a bit reckless tonight. I think he was trying to impress someone," he said, and Bering raised a curious eyebrow.  
“Oh, thanks a lot…” Cain mumbled, only half-joking.

“Hey, man,” Encke replied, throwing his hands up. “You know I’m only trying to look out for you.”

“Yeah,” Bering spoke up. “Cain, you have no idea how much you remind me of myself at your age... and that's precisely why I had to bring you down a peg in front of the whole team. I know that doesn’t feel good. But you went rogue there for a minute,” he said, to some enthusiastic nodding from Encke. “The other boys are starting to look up to you. I offered to make you a runningback, and you insisted on playing defense. But you need to check with me before you do something like that.”

“I knew they were too slow,” Cain said, trying to defend himself. “I knew they wouldn’t react in time, and that they _definitely_ wouldn’t expect me to do it twice--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bering interrupted. “Every team we play for the rest of your high school career is gonna expect it. Or at least the ones that are worth a damn. I won’t be surprised if every coach in the state has heard about what you did by Monday morning.” Bering let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m proud of what you did, Cain… but I don’t need you making yourself a target.”

“Yes, sir,” Cain moped, now also in a real hurry to leave so he could escape all the attention. And if Bering kept them much longer, he would be too late.

“Got any notes for us, Cain?” the coach asked.

“No, sir.”

“Alright, I know you wanna get out of here,” Bering conceded with a sigh. “See you Monday.”

Cain didn’t even get fully dressed, shoving the game ball and everything else into his bag and running out into the night. Even encumbered by his backpack, he ran as fast as he could towards the high school's parking lot. He had someone he needed to catch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (oh i forgot to mention that Karl is the name of the big guy in Cain's dream, the one with the darker skin an light hair. Hamlet told me a while back)


	8. Chapter 8

_For you._

Walking through the parking lot, Abel felt like he was floating on a cloud. His skin was tingly, his muscles full of pent-up energy like some kind of Cain-induced sugar rush. He took his time making his way to his motorcycle, not quite wanting to leave the night behind. It felt as if it wasn’t quite over yet anyway, some invisible force pulling at him, making him want to stay.

He was right.

“Abel!”

He spun around, to see Cain charging towards him, backpack bouncing on his back, the sculpted angles of his muscles evident under his black tank top and blue jeans. Abel expected him to stop once he got nearer, but Cain kept on coming, until he’d tackled Abel around the middle and lifted him off the ground in a twirly hug. “Oh my gosh… hey!” Abel laughed as he was spun around twice and then gently returned to Earth, dizzy in more than one kind of way.

“We’re going to the playoffs!” Cain said, beaming at him, his face incredibly close.

“I know! It’s so exciting!” Abel replied, still holding onto Cain by his bare biceps. He didn’t seem to mind. “You were so great tonight!” Abel said with a big smile.

“You doing anything right now?” Cain panted, seeming to be a man on a mission.

“Um… no?” Abel answered shyly, eyes not sure where to look, with the other boy looking so intensely at him.

“Go out with me,” Cain asked, sort of.

“What?” Abel giggled, sure Cain couldn’t be serious. “Right now?!”

“Yeah, right now,” Cain insisted, holding onto Abel’s hands in between them. “We need to celebrate. Go out with me.”

“Um…” Every coherent thought fell out of Abel’s brain, in the moment Cain’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. He’d never been touched that way before, and he wondered if Cain could see just how much it was affecting him, how such a simple touch had made him come undone. “W-what did you have in mind?” he managed.

“Well, you said you don’t like dances…” Cain said softly, looking at where their hands were joined and then up to Abel's face, something bashful and seductive about the way he gazed at Abel under his lashes. “There’s a party at my friend Porthos’s place. Shouldn’t be _too_ crowded,” he said with a shrug.

Abel winced, remembering what Karl had said during the game. “Won’t there be alcohol there?”

Cain pressed his lips together and nodded. Abel winced some more. “But you don’t have to drink,” Cain said quickly. “I’m not gonna like, peer pressure you or anything,” he scoffed.

“My parents would kill me just for _going_ to a party like that,” Abel lamented. Plus Phobos was going to be there.

Cain pulled away and put his hands on his hips, making a face. Abel noticed for the first time that he had painted his fingernails black, and it looked good on him. “Okay…” Cain sighed.

Abel snickered. “I can tell you’re biting back some lecture about the drinking age, aren’t you?”

“Not really… well, I mean _now_ I am,” Cain admitted and rolled his eyes, making them both laugh. “But… wanna just… go get some pizza or something?” Still reeling, Abel didn’t have a chance to answer before Cain kept rambling on. “I’m gonna keep suggesting things until you agree to something. I am going to take you on a date,” Cain declared, a very cute and hopeful smile on his face.

“Pizza’s fine,” Abel agreed with a tiny shrug.

“Just fine?” Cain prodded. “‘Cause I can keep suggesting things--”

Abel gave him a look. Didn’t Cain understand he was trying to be cool about this whole thing? “I would _love_ to get pizza with you, Cain,” he stubbornly admitted.

“That’s better. Come on, let’s take my car,” Cain said, taking him by the hand and dragging him through the parking lot.

 

Cain’s car wasn’t much to look at, not at all the souped-up hot rod that Abel had imagined a bad-boy football player driving in his head. It was just an older greyish-blue sedan that had some paint flaking off in places, some dings in the metal, and a passenger door that didn’t open from the outside… apparently.

Abel caught a whiff of cigarette smoke as he sat down and shut the door, but his attention was quickly diverted to a clear plastic box on the dash. “Oh, I saw some of the other boys wearing these on their arms,” he said, grabbing the sleeve garter to get a closer look. “Did someone buy this for you?”

“N-no,” Cain answered meekly, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “…Shit, I forgot I had that in here...”

Abel realized what he meant when he noticed that one of the white ribbons had the name Phobos on it in sparkly holographic stickers. “Oh…”

“Okay, uh, here’s what happened,” Cain said in a panic, turning to face Abel as much as he could in his seat. “I bought that before I broke up with Phobos. You have to order them super early, and he would have _killed_ me if I hadn’t gotten him one,” he groaned. “And then… I wanted to go with you instead, but it was too late to get one for you. But I’d already paid for this one,” he explained.

Abel chewed on his lip. The garter was really pretty, but it was tainted with the spirit of Phobos. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“So... I thought about peeling the stickers off and giving it to you anyway,” Cain said, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he continued. “I knew it was a shitty thing to do, but I wasn’t sure what else there was _to_ do. But then I asked you, and you were kinda weird about it, and so I thought maybe I’d misread you, and it ended up not mattering anyway. So…”

“Sorry…” Abel answered, realizing Cain had run out of steam. “I didn’t find out you’d broken up with Phobos until tonight. I’m not really in the loop, you know?”

“Ohhh…” Cain entoned, eyes lighting up with revelation.

And then there was just awkward silence, stretching between them as they both stared at the mess of black and white ribbons in the plastic box. Abel looked up at Cain’s dejected eyes and then back at the box, and came to a quick solution. He pried the plastic open and pulled out the garter, and began picking off the stickers that spelled Phobos’s name.

“You…. _really_ don’t have to wear that,” Cain insisted, reaching towards Abel to take it away. Abel yanked it out of reach, putting himself between Cain and his prize with a jingle of tiny bells.

“You do realize that Phobos and I are practically arch-enemies, right?” he reminded his date.

His _date_.

“Well I didn’t know it was quite _that_ bad, but--”

“Yeah,” Abel nodded and slid the garter up his arm, smiling as the bells sounded again. “So there’s something kind of satisfying about wearing this, actually,” he said, and took the stack of discarded letter stickers and stuck them to Cain’s arm.

Cain raised a confused eyebrow at him as he put the key in the ignition. “You’re… weird,” he said over the ‘fasten seatbelt’ chime.

Something about hearing the car engine start reminded Abel that he was going somewhere with a boy he barely knew. And he was supposed to be on his way home. “Oh, I need to call my mom real fast,” he announced, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

As he listened to the phone ring, Abel felt something sticky get pressed into his arm. He glared over at Cain and opened his mouth to scold him about no givesies backsies, just as his mother picked up. _“Hello?”_

“Hi, it’s me… I’m gonna be home late,” he said, pulling the stickers off and sticking them back on Cain’s shirt.

 _“Okay, where are you going to be?”_ his mother inquired.

“I’m going to get pizza... with a friend.” He quickly muted the call and turned to Cain to explain. “Sorry, she doesn’t know.”

“‘Sfine…” Cain said with a casual shrug, keeping his eyes on the road.

 _“Oh. Alright. What’s this friend’s name?”_ his mother was asking.

Abel unmuted the call. “Oh, um… Cain?” he said into the phone.

_“Okay, what time do you think you’ll be home?”_

Cain had pulled the stickers off of his shirt and was shoving them back in Abel’s direction, causing Abel to flail his arm frantically to block his attempts. “Ummm… about midnight?” he managed to answer at the same time.

 _“Alright sweetie, have fun and be safe,”_ his mother reminded him.

“Okay, mom,” Abel agreed, and slapped Cain’s approaching hand with a loud crack.

“Motherf--” Cain hissed, shaking out his hand as he retreated to his half of the car, giving Abel a pouty glare.

_“Love you! Bye...”_

“Bye,” Abel replied, hoping his mom would forgive him for not saying ‘love you’ back in front of his crush. After hanging up, he looked over at Cain, who just gave him a mischievous sideways glance and then looked back at the road. The letter stickers were nowhere to be seen at the moment. “Go ahead,” Abel sighed.

“What?” Cain replied with another sideways glance.

“Go ahead and make fun of me for being a momma’s boy,” Abel groaned, feeling over his shirt to find the missing stickers.

 _“Are_ you a momma’s boy?” Cain asked.

Abel continued his search up his shoulders and into his hair while he thought about it. “...Not really. My mom says I'm not allowed to date girls until I'm out of high school," he said with his own devious smile.

"That... is the most amazing loophole I have ever heard,” Cain laughed, as he turned onto the main road.

“Haha, yeah,” Abel giggled. He looked Cain over carefully for any hint as to the whereabouts of the stickers, while patting himself down again more thoroughly. “What about your parents?” he asked Cain. “Are they pretty strict about curfew and dating and stuff?"

"Um, I live with my mom. She doesn't really give a shit,” Cain muttered.

"Oh…” Abel said apologetically, sensing he’d hit a sore spot. “And what about your dad?"

Cain shrugged, eyes glued to the road like he was avoiding something. "Don't know who he is," he said casually.

"Oh. Sorry," Abel said, looking out the window to see where Cain was pulling into, and to avoid bringing up another unpleasant topic. It seemed to be a pizza place, from the big sign that said ‘Mario’s’ and the stereotypical red, white, and green stripes in the outside decor.

"It's okay. I'm used to it.” Cain pulled into a parking place and looked over at Abel as he shut off the car. “Ready?”

“Where did you put them?” Abel demanded at last, doing his best not to smile.

Cain cocked up an eyebrow. “Put what?” he asked, and guiltily pressed his lips together.

“The _stickers,_ jerk,” Abel laughed. “You put them on me somewhere, didn’t you?” he accused, making another pass through his hair.

“...Yep. Sure did,” Cain answered, and shut his mouth tight again.

Abel stared him down, squinting. “Oh, I see,” he groaned. “You just want me to _think_ they’re on me somewhere. You’re bluffing.”

“Maybe,” Cain smirked, eyes bright as he looked at Abel intensely. “Maybe I just _want_ you to think that… I want you think that,” he said, frowning as he confused himself. “Or something.”

Abel just huffed at him and opened his door, sure he might melt if he stayed in the car and let Cain gaze at him any longer.

 

Quite a few patrons recognized Cain when they came through the door of the restaurant, greeting the two of them with a smattering of cheers and applause. Abel just watched, torn between embarrassment and pride as Cain shyly waved at his adoring fans. He exchanged amused looks with Abel, as an older gentleman dressed in a white smock rushed right over. "Hey! Cain!” he said as he ushered them further inside. “Good game! Best game, huh? I give you best seat in house for best game!" he said in a thick accent that Abel couldn’t place.

"Oh, thanks, man," Cain smiled, and motioned for Abel to go first, placing a warm hand on his back as they followed the man to a C-shaped booth.

"Drinks?" the man asked, once the couple had seated themselves, setting down a single menu. Cain looked at Abel to answer first.

"I'll just have water, thanks,” Abel said, trying to be mindful of Cain’s budget in case he insisted on paying.

"You sure?” the waiter asked with a frown. “Free drinks. For Cain and his friend, eh?" he gestured wildly like Abel was supposed to know this.

"Oh... in that case, I'll have Dr. Pepper," Abel said, blushing a little.

"Coke,” Cain said simply.

"Okay. I be right back," the man said and scurried away.

Cain chuckled quietly and turned to Abel, to murmur into his ear. "I get free drinks and a discount on food anyway because I work here. But he pretends it's just because he likes me."

"Oh,” Abel laughed, flushing warm from how Cain's voice tickled and gave him goosebumps. “He's adorable. Where is he from?"

"I dunno, some country I can't pronounce,” Cain answered, shaking his head. “He came to America, and opened a pizza place and just fell in love with football. He closes his restaurant so he can go to the home games."

"Wow... so he’s the owner?” Abel asked, and Cain nodded. Trying to make everything make sense, Abel frowned. “Is his name Mario?"

"No,” Cain snorted, smiling at Abel as he rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. “It's Boris."

“Hmm, yeah Mario’s sounds better,” Abel decided.

Just then, Boris returned with their sodas. "I be right back," he said again, and was gone just as quickly.

"So what kind of pizza do you like?" Cain asked Abel, obviously not needing a menu.

"I like beef on mine,” Abel replied, shrugging because it didn’t really matter. “I'll also eat pepperoni, but I prefer beef."

Cain quirked up an eyebrow at him. "Just beef?"

"Um... yeah?" Abel answered, unintentionally mirroring the look on Cain’s face.

Cain chuckled, squinting one skeptical eye at Abel. "Have you ever had a pizza with more than one topping on it?"

Having never thought about it before, Abel hung his head down. "No,” he admitted. “My parents are very conservative."

"Hmm,” Cain grunted sympathetically. Then suddenly his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Okay I know what we're gonna get," he declared.

 _"Okay,”_ Abel said, entoning his suspicion that Cain was up to something. “What?”

"You'll see,” Cain answered with a smug grin. “You're gonna like it, I promise. In fact, I think you'll _love_ it," he asserted.

"Alright...?"

"Hey man,” said a deep voice from out of nowhere. Abel looked up to see Cain’s friend from _that day_ on the practice fields standing over their table. “I was wondering where you ran off to," the friend said, and reached down to exchange some sort of secret handshake with Cain. Standing beside him was Deimos, looking at Abel and Cain from under his hair and seeing too much.

"Hey Encke, uh, this is Abel," Cain replied, as if that explained everything.

“Hi,” Abel said, trying to sound at all like he belonged in a conversation with two cool football players, and whatever it was that Deimos was.

 _"Oh_ …” Encke said quietly, exchanging some kind of telepathic communication with Cain. Deimos tugged on Encke’s sleeve as if to say that he concurred with whatever conclusion Encke was slowly coming to. “Well, nice to meet you, Abel,” Encke bowed his head with efficient courtesy. “We'll just leave you two kids alone,” he said with a wink, and pulled Deimos away.

"Encke’s the quarterback, right?” Abel asked Cain when they were out of earshot. Cain had just taken a big gulp of his soda and so he vigorously nodded in answer. "Are he and Deimos...?"

"Yeah.” Cain raised his eyebrows, eyes wide like it was a surprise to him, too.

"Wow. I never would have pictured Deimos with the captain of the football team, but they're cute together," Abel noted, stealthily watching the other couple as they situated themselves in another booth, and got fawned over by Boris.

"They're my two best friends,” Cain explained. “I went to middle school with Deimos, but then he moved to a different part of town, and went to a different junior high. I met Encke in junior high, and then all three of us ended up at the same high school. So I introduced them... next thing I knew, I was the third wheel," he reminisced mournfully.

"Aww..." Abel patted his shoulder to mock-comfort him, smiling at his pitiful face.

Just then, Boris reappeared with a pen and pad in hand. "What'll it be?" he asked, probably mimicking something he’d learned from watching American movies.

"Yeah, can we get a large meat lover's?” Cain asked him. “With… what kind of crust do you want?” he turned to Abel, not reacting at all to the subtly murderous look Abel had on his face.

Abel just blinked at him, determined not to let himself be phased. “I like it thick,” he answered evenly with a calculated tilt of his head, fluttering his eyelashes at Cain as if to dare him to do something about it.

“Okay, thick crust it is,” Cain said, turning to Boris, who scribbled onto his pad. “And I also want a salad -- do you want a salad?" he asked Abel, doing an impressive job of acting like nothing had happened at all.

"Sure," Abel agreed, surprised that for such a rebel, Cain actually ate vegetables at all.

"Okay. Be right out," Boris promised, and whisked away.

Cain leaned against the table, gazing into Abel’s eyes with the same cool affection one might have for a formidable foe. “Oh, Abel," he sighed, something like pity or amusement in his voice.

“Hmm?” Abel hummed, giving him a challenge of a smile, even as Cain nudged his free hand forward, getting just close enough to make Abel’s skin prickle with the anticipation of touch. But Cain settled for flicking one of the bells on Abel’s garter, its pleasant ring echoing in the small space.

Then Cain licked his lips. “I like you,” he said huskily.

That made Abel smile even more, unable to help himself... so much for keeping it cool. "...I like you too, I guess," he admitted, causing Cain to purse his lip in disapproval. “Too bad you’re trouble,” Abel teased quietly.

Cain’s expression melted somewhat, suddenly reminding Abel of that first day in chemistry class when Abel had said he wanted to change partners. “You think I’m trouble?” Cain scoffed half-heartedly.

Abel nodded. “You’re always breaking the rules, and getting sent to the principal’s office,” he pointed out.

Cain gave him an unimpressed little smirk. “‘If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so.’ Thomas Jefferson,” he recited.

Flinching, Abel’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Did you just…” he started, but had to begin again because Cain was laughing. “Did you just quote a Founding _Father?”_

Cain just grinned at him, seeming to soak in Abel’s shock, reveling in it. Neither of them even acknowledged when Boris came back and put their salads on the table; Abel was too busy staring at Cain’s mouth and way his teeth were clamped down on his lip. He was so close, close enough to kiss, but Abel felt if they started something at that particular moment, it might be something they couldn’t stop. That, and he didn’t want Cain to think he had some sort of weird American History fetish.

So he decided to let Cain win that particular round of weird, sexy staring contest, instead turning away to pick at his small salad with his fork. The other boy followed suit, and to Abel’s relief, the room got a few degrees cooler.

"Hmm, this is really good," Abel said after a few bites. "Egg whites and broccoli, and beans? I've never had a salad like this before. I like it," he concluded.

"Thanks," Cain said to his surprise, smiling at him proudly. Abel scrunched up his face, wordlessly disapproving of Cain taking credit for something he clearly had nothing to do with. Cain just stuck out his tongue in response, and then the two of them settled into companionable silence.

 

"So…” Abel started some time later, after their pizza had been brought to their table, and Abel had admitted that multiple-topping pizzas were far superior. “Do you play any other sports?"

Working on a bite of pizza, Cain bobbed his head side to side in a non-committal manner. "Coach lets a few of us do boxing during off season,” he explained. “But we don't have an official team or practices or anything. But that's okay, I kinda need the extra time to work and do homework and stuff."

"True,” Abel agreed, trying to ignore the way Cain was looking at him for eating his pizza slice with a knife and fork. “Are you taking any other honors classes, besides Chemistry?"

Cain nodded. "History. And maybe Government next year,” he added. “I'm gonna go for a football scholarship, and apparently they want you to have good grades, too. So I'm trying to bump up my GPA."

"Oh…” Abel thought hard for a moment. “Are you in my History class?!" he said, looking hard at the other boy.

"Um... first period?" Cain answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh no, I have Band first period," Abel laughed. “I was gonna say, I think I would have noticed you in there.”

"Ah.” Distracted by something, Cain started digging around in his jeans pocket, pulling out a phone that looked quite a few years old and flipping it open.

"Well maybe sometimes we can do our homework together. Or something," Abel tried, pushing back the voice in his head, that said he should be offended.

"Yeah, okay," Cain answered, but it seemed he was barely paying attention, instead staring at the phone and scowling as it vibrated in his hand.

"Is everything okay?" Abel asked.

"Mm-hm!" Cain said over-cheerfully, and snapped the phone shut one handed, putting it back in his pocket. “So, uh… do you do other things... besides being a band nerd?" he inquired, and returned his attention to chowing down on pizza.

"Not really,” Abel replied. “Not since I moved here. Plus, band and homework keep me pretty busy.” Taking a sip of soda, he wracked his brain for something interesting about himself that he could talk about. “I, um... I do like working on cars."

Cain turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows in interest. "Oh yeah?" he asked, mouth half-full of pizza still.

"Yeah, when I have time,” Abel explained. “I want to be an engineer for spacecraft, but... there's not really a whole lot of those around for me to tinker with," he joked.

Cain gave him a sort of impressed grimace, making Abel’s heart flutter in his chest. "So you wanna be like, an astronaut?" Cain inquired excitedly.

"Maybe. If I get really lucky, but most likely I would be mission control or something like that," Abel shrugged, trying to be humble. Cain had a black-painted finger over his lip, thinking about something that was amusing him a little too much for Abel’s liking. “My  title's about to get longer isn't it?" he realized.

"Let's see…” Cain pondered, eyes wandering to the ceiling. “His Royal Scienciness, Princess Abel of the Space Elves should do just fine," he declared, giving Abel a big smile.

"Haha thanks…” Abel said, only half meaning it. He was about to ask Cain where he came up with such colorful titles, but then Cain got distracted by his phone again. He pulled it out of his pocket, looking at it with the same scowl as before. “Um, I hate to sound like a broken record, but...” Abel tried. “Is everything okay?"

"It's my mother,” Cain said, still staring at the phone. “I better go outside and call her." Then he gave Abel an apologetic look, as if asking his permission.

"No, go ahead," Abel insisted. “I don’t mind.”

Cain scooted out of the booth and rushed away in the direction of the door, leaving Abel by himself. He wasn’t exactly sure why Cain would have to go outside to call… maybe his phone got poor reception, or maybe it was just because it was loud inside the restaurant… or maybe Cain was just embarrassed to talk to his mom in front of Abel, which seemed kind of ridiculous. Abel put down his knife and fork and scrubbed his face in his hands. The whole night had been such a crazy high, and now with Cain away for the moment he could come down from it a bit and breathe.

Abel had never been on a date before. He had some inkling of what to do just from watching movies and TV, but there were some questions the mainstream media couldn’t really answer for him. Like how far Cain might want to go on their first date? And how far Abel should want to go, seeing as he’d already become committed to having Cain’s metaphorical babies.

“More Dr. Pepper?” Boris asked, startling Abel out of his thoughts.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, thank you,” Abel stammered, trying to recover with a smile.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” Boris said before zipping away again. Abel wondered if dating advice was on the menu.

It wasn’t long before Cain returned and scooted back into the booth. "Um... I have to go,” he said to Abel, a pained look on his face. “My mom is sick, and needs me to come home."

"Oh..." Abel pouted. His heart sank in his chest. “Well I hope she feels better,” he managed.

"Yeah,” Cain moped, eyes downcast. “I really hate to ditch you like this--"

"Don't worry about it,” Abel insisted. “It's not like she's gonna get sick next time we go on a date.”

That made Cain frown for some reason. “Right…” he muttered, suddenly seeming very far away.

“Go ahead and go get your chicken soup on, or whatever…” Abel joked, and was glad when Cain laughed quietly. “I can stay and get the check and stuff."

Cain frowned even more. "How are you gonna get back to your bike, though?"

"We're like, what, three, four blocks from campus?” Abel scoffed, though he _was_ a bit worried about being out so late at night. “I'll be fine walking... _Go,”_ he prodded with a playful smile.

Cain just sat there, staring at Abel and pressing his lips together. "Well I was gonna do this somewhere a little more private,” he said seductively. Abel’s eyes got a little wider. “But I guess I'll just have to do it here.”

Abel might have tried to ask what exactly Cain meant, but before he could think to do that, Cain leaned forward and pressed his lips against Abel’s lips, holding him gingerly by the back of the head. Abel barely remembered to close his eyes, too distracted by Cain’s tongue sliding across his lower lip, Cain putting an arm around him and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and making Abel let out an involuntary whimper.

Just as Abel really got a handle on what he was doing, Cain pulled away, and Abel reluctantly opened his eyes to see those intense black eyes looking back at him, drawing him in even as they were saying goodbye. The corner of Cain’s mouth turned into a smirk as he looked Abel up and down, seeing him breathless and speechless and pink in the cheeks. "See ya, Princess,” he whispered, scooting his way out of the booth, and striding away with another mischievous glance in Abel’s direction.

“S-see ya,” Abel answered mindlessly, even though it was too quiet and too late for Cain to hear. If Abel had been floating on a cloud after the game, he was in the stratosphere now. It was his first kiss.

The only thing that brought him down to Earth was when he looked across the restaurant, and met eyes with a very troubled-looking captain of the football team.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings on this chapter for drug use and 'having a parent who's a drug addict' feels.

Abel did his best to look like nothing was the matter as Encke strode up to his table, with Deimos following but mostly hidden from view behind his back. “Hey,” the taller boy said as he plopped down on the red vinyl seat, still giving Abel a discerning look.

“Uh, hey,” Abel answered, watching Deimos slip into the booth on the other side of him, trapping him in. He looked back and forth between the two of them, feeling a pang of anxiety and devising an exit strategy that involved him ducking under the table and not paying for his pizza. Encke was big and muscley, and Deimos just looked like he was capable of unspeakable things.

However, Encke tilted his head, the motion pointedly concerned. “So what was that about?” he asked, gesturing with his nose at the door Cain had rushed out of moments before.

“Oh. Cain had to go home,” Abel said casually, not wanting to show just how disappointed or nervous he was. But apparently there wasn’t much that got past Encke.

“Did he ditch you?!” the boy demanded, looking down his nose at Abel as if he was the one being accused. “Because if so, he and I are gonna have a problem,” he asserted, putting his index finger down on the table as if he could squish Cain underneath it. Maybe he could.

“Oh, no!” Abel shook his head insistently, feeling himself relax somewhat. However, he sensed Encke wouldn’t be likely to believe him. “His mom is sick. He had to go home to take care of her is all. I’m okay,” he said as confidently as he could.

“Hmm,” Encke pondered, turning to exchange unreadable looks with Deimos. “…A’ight,” he said quietly, shrugging it off with surprising ease.

The three of them were silent for a bit, Abel and Encke watching as Deimos peeled a stray piece of melted cheese off the pizza tray, and sneakily popped it into his mouth like he was getting away with something. Not being a big fan of silence, and knowing from Chemistry class that Deimos didn’t really talk, Abel turned back to Encke. “So, you’re in charge of keeping Cain in line, huh?” he joked.

“Oh, yeah,” Encke nodded. “Not that he needs to be smacked around too often. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Well… what can you tell me about him?” Abel asked, settling his head into one hand, preemptively fascinated by whatever Encke would have to say.

“Haha, well I’ll tell you,” Encke chuckled, eyeing a large slice of meat lovers’ pizza. “Cain likes to act like a jock, but the truth is, he’s a huge dork.”

“Really?!” Abel laughed, smiling big at the revelation.

“Yeah. When we were in junior high, I made him try out for the football team, ‘cause I didn’t want to go by myself... He made me join the chess club.”

Abel’s jaw dropped. “No. Way,” he protested, to Deimos and Encke’s amusement. “Is he any good?”

“He’s _really_ good,” Encke answered, hands slowly making his way towards the pizza and pulling it towards him. On the other side of the table, Deimos nodded in grave agreement. “But he’s pretty obnoxious to play against when you’re playing for fun.”

“What do you mean?” Abel asked with a frown, feeling a bit defensive on Cain’s behalf.

“Well, at competitions he would behave himself okay,” Encke said. “But when you’re playing just for fun, he…” his explanation was halted as he burst into laughter merely at the thought of whatever it was. “Oh man, he makes like… a story out of the game. All of the pieces on the board have their own backstory and personality and everything, which he insist on sharing with you when you're trying to decide your next move," Encke groaned, and then took a big bite of pizza.

“Seriously?” Abel laughed, leaning into the table with his disbelief.

“Yeah,” Encke answered with his mouth half-full. “Like he usually says that the two kings are having an affair with each other behind their wives’ backs, and that’s why they don’t really do anything. Meanwhile the queens are so powerful because they’re fueled by jealousy. He says the bishops have magical powers and stuff like that,” he said. Deimos shoved a napkin at him from across the table, which Encke took with a little grateful nod of his head and wiped off his hands.

“Wow, that… sounds kind of cool actually,” Abel admitted, watching as Encke finished off his stolen piece of pizza. He’d practically inhaled it.

“Well, if you think it sounds cool,” Encke said, his mouth half-full again. “Then maybe you two would be good together.”

“Maybe so…” Abel agreed, sounding more hopeful than he meant to. “You can have some pizza if you want,” he said sarcastically, gesturing towards the tray.

“Oh thanks,” Encke said in all sincerity, and he and Deimos both pulled out another piece.

 

* * *

 

Cain’s mother had several different names... several distinct and equally eccentric personalities, so Cain was never quite sure who he was coming home to. There was Mary Jane, the spiritualist, who had a knack for tarot cards and eating fruit loops straight out of the box. There was Lucy, the music enthusiast with a vivid imagination, who would blast minimalist electronic music on her stereo and write the most off-the-wall poetry ever conceived.

There was Tina, the impulse shopper, who was the reason strange packages and magazine subscriptions sometimes showed up in their mail. God help them if an infomercial ever came on television when Tina was home.

Then there was Molly, the socialite, who had an inexplicable urge to call everyone she’d ever met and invite them over to their house. And sometimes people would actually come, though that was getting rarer and rarer all the time.

Cain had long since learned how to deal with each of these iterations of her character. Had learned to compartmentalize them, and remind himself that none of them were actually his mother. That his real mom was in there, somewhere... hiding, and he just had to be patient and wait for her to come out.

But after the unsettling and nonsensical conversation he’d had with her over the phone, he was more than a little disturbed, when he stepped into his house and found it completely silent, and scarily still.

He stood there in the doorway, on high alert for any movement or any sound, breathing in the lingering incense that hung hazy in the air. “Mother?” he called out, listening hard for an answer that didn’t come.

Cain tread carefully through the living room, not wanting to drown out any noise that she might make with his own footsteps. If she was in trouble, he needed to get to her quickly. On the other hand, she might be perfectly alright and mistake him for an intruder, ready to attack him with god-knew-what if he snuck up on her.

 _“Mom,”_ he said loudly, more a command than a question.

Still no answer. His heart pounding in his chest, Cain walked a little faster towards the back of the trailer, still listening acutely for any sound. He tried her bedroom first, risking her wrath at disturbing her sacred space, for the potential need to save her fucking life. Finding it empty, he ran into the bathroom, frantically ripping back the plastic curtain on the shower, and finding empty, too. He poked his head into his own room, jabbing at the lightswitch only to find everything as he’d left it that morning.

“Mom!” he shouted, fear stiffening his vocal chords at the worst possible moment.

The smallest sound from the kitchen drew his attention, snapping his head around towards the source of the noise, hair standing up from his skin. He doubled back down the hallway, tiptoeing towards the kitchen, calculating the probability that there was an intruder after all, one that wasn’t him. It didn’t seem very likely, nothing was out of place... the door didn’t seem to be forced open. He thought about going back to his room and grabbing a knife, but there were knives in the kitchen if he really needed one.

Hugging the corner, he peered around and breathed only half a sigh of relief, when he saw his mother’s foot peeking out from under the tablecloth. He rushed forward and got on his knees beside the table, but then slowly lifted the vinyl up, not wanting to make too many sudden movements.

His mother hugged her knees and stared, eyes wide but hardly seeing him at all.

“Mom?” he asked quietly, heart sinking as her brows stitched together, her face hard with fear. “Do you know who I am?”

Staring for too long, she finally began to nod her head. “My baby,” she answered, as if she herself were still a child.

“That’s right,” Cain said gently, setting aside any comments about how he wasn’t a baby anymore. It was a rare endearment, so he didn’t really mind anyway. “Why are you hiding?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t belie how scared he was, because that would just make it worse.

His mother’s eyes wandered from left to right, like she could see outside her tablecloth fortress. “They’re in the house,” she rasped to him. _“They’re here to get me!”_

“Nobody’s gonna get you,” Cain assured her, shaking his head. “Can I come in?”

She nodded slowly, so Cain ducked under the tablecloth and sat across from her, hunching down to keep from hitting his head. He studied her in the dim light, twitching nervously to stare at things that weren’t there, with pupils shot too wide for the shade under the table. But she was conscious, so, there was that.

They both startled as an object in her hand began to vibrate loudly. Cain watched as his mother held it up, staring at it with equal parts fear and awe. “The device’s song grows stronger,” she said eerily. “A swell of aggression… anger… the Colterons ready an invasion. The Alliance must strike before it’s too late!”

 _“Okay…”_ Cain groaned, rolling his eyes at her weird diatribe. Fuck, she must have really been blitzed off her ass to be talking like that. “Okay. Mom? That’s a cell phone,” he said, with a small helping of condescension. He held out his hand, beckoning for her to give it over, which she did finally, distrustful and reluctant.

Flipping the phone open, Cain saw a missed call from a toll-free number. Probably a bill collector, he surmised as he scrolled through the history, and counted 20 calls from that number from just that day alone. No wonder his mother was so on edge. “Let’s turn that off for right now, alright?” he said, and did just that, setting the phone beside him on the floor and hopefully out of her line of sight.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Cain’s mother looked like she might cry from relief. She scooted awkwardly across the floor and cuddled up to him, trembling and whimpering as Cain put his arms around her, and shushed her softly. He put his fingers up to her artery to check her pulse, which was racing, but not any more than his own. “Mom, listen to me,” he demanded quietly, each word slow and precise to get the truth to sink into her mind. “You’re under the effect of a drug. Remember?” he prodded. “What you’re experiencing... isn’t real. _Okay?”_

She looked up from where she was tucked under his arm, staring for a good while before she finally nodded in answer.

“Do you remember what you took?” Cain tried, but her eyes wandered away, like she hadn’t heard or hadn’t wanted to hear the question. “Mother,” he scolded, grabbing her chin and bringing her back. “ _What did you take?”_

“J-just some L,” she croaked, shrugging weakly.

“What else did you take. _Hmm?”_ he needled, jostling her a bit in his frustration, sure that she was withholding something from him.

“N-nothing,” his mother complained in that teenage girl attitude she imitated too well, eyes dragging across the tile floor.

Cain let out a mournful sigh, maybe on the verge of crying himself if he didn’t start shouting and throwing things first. “Why do you do this to me?” he pleaded, even though she was beyond any hope of giving him an answer. Or maybe not, her expression suddenly melting into something a little more sober, a little more remorseful.

Cain looked her intensely in the eyes, hoping to hold onto that part of her, some approximation of his real mom that would actually care how this affected _him._ That would care about scaring the shit out of him and disrupting the best date he’d ever been on. That would care about missing the best game he’d ever played.

There was never a good time to shout at her about those things though, either when she was sober and pretending everything was perfect, or when she was high as a kite and would break into pieces if Cain was too angry or too upset. He took in a shaky, but calming breath and sighed. “You know I need you to tell me if you took something else, so I can take care of you,” he whispered.

Her eyes wandered off again, thinking hard about it. “I dunno, maybe someone else put something in it?” she offered, bargaining for her life. “It _is_ different this time. I got scared,” she admitted, curling into herself as if she could make herself as small as she sounded.

“Did you throw up?” Cain asked, but his mother’s attention had already been pulled away by something invisible. “Mother. Look at me,” he said as calmly as he could, pulling her back by the chin again. _“Did you throw up?”_

“N-no,” she said, shaking her head frantically.

“Okay,” Cain sighed. “When was the last time you had something to eat, or drink? Do you remember?”

“No…” she muttered.

“Okay, come with me,” Cain said, and got to his feet, carefully stepping out of the tablecloth fortress and extending his hand.

“Where are we going?” his mother asked, looking too concerned for someone who was in their own kitchen, but Cain knew better than to give her an answer that her imagination could run away with. And he knew better than to leave her alone.

“Come with me. Come on, it’s safe,” he said simply.

Watching him carefully, she reached out a shaky hand. Hesitated, then reached out a little more, stumbling as she pulled herself up. “Careful, don't hit your head," Cain reminded her.

She was still halfway crouched under the table when suddenly the refrigerator kicked on, humming too loudly from the other side of the kitchen. She froze in place, her eyes burning again with fear. “They’re here,” she said, voice wavering. “I hear them!”

“That’s just the fridge,” Cain said, trying to encourage her to keep going. “It’s fine--”

“No…” She shook her head tightly, pulling away from him. “No… no...”

Cain’s posture slumped as he watched her shrink back into the darkness under the table, each mumbled ‘no’ a little more panicked than the last. He sighed, closing and opening his eyes intensely like Kessel had done one day in Chemistry class, and crawled back under the table, knowing he was in for a long, long night.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

There wasn’t a lab on Monday in Chemistry, just a boring lecture by Mr. Kessel that was apparently putting Cain to sleep. Every once in a while when he stopped scribbling notes and let his head drift down, Abel would reach forward and poke Cain in the back, startling him awake and making him look back at Abel with a pouty glare. As such, Abel didn’t have a chance to talk to him until after class. He waited in the doorway, watching as Cain stood and groggily gathered his things.

 _“Hi, Abel,”_ two girls chorused as they walked past him, grinning and hugging their binders to their chests.

Abel raised an eyebrow at them. “Hey?” he said, and watched them walk away giggling. He wasn’t sure what all that was about. He didn’t even know who they were.

But then Cain walked up to him, and all that was forgotten. “Hey. Um, well, you look… really tired," Abel said, brows stitching together with concern.

“Yeah. I didn’t get much sleep this weekend,” Cain groaned as they headed towards his locker together, going a slightly slower and more contented speed than the rest of the traffic in the hall.  They didn’t have to hurry anyway, because it was their lunch period, but Abel thought it felt like something else. Like maybe time didn’t really matter as much anymore when Cain was beside him.

“Is your mom feeling better?” he tried.

“Oh. Yeah. She’ll be alright,” Cain answered with a dismissive sigh, glancing over at Abel. “It sucked leaving you like that on Friday, though.”

“It’s okay,” Abel assured him, trying to stay close to him as they walked but not _too_ close. “I had a good time regardless… Deimos and Encke came and helped me finish the pizza. And they gave me a ride back to my bike.”

“Oh good,” Cain said sarcastically. “So now _you’re_ friends with _my_ friends…” he entoned.

Abel chuckled at his displeasure. “Yep--”

“And probably know all my embarrassing secrets--”

“Pretty much.”

“Fantastic,” Cain huffed, and then focused his attention on turning the combination on his locker.

“Nah, they didn’t tell me that much,” Abel admitted, leaning on the wall of lockers beside him. “A few things,” he corrected. “Which gave me an idea for our do-over date.” Cain glanced over at him with an unreadable look. “Assuming that you… wanted to have… a do-over date?” Abel said nervously.

“Sure,” Cain nodded at him, and then took some books from his backpack and shoved them into his locker.

“So… do you like video games?”

“Yeah sure…” Cain said, and shut his locker, leaning against the wall so he was facing Abel. It looked like he was holding back a yawn.

A bit concerned about Cain’s lack of enthusiasm, Abel tried to convince himself it was probably just that Cain was sleep deprived. He dutifully pressed on. “Well, since we don’t have a game this Friday,” Abel reminded him. “I was thinking that maybe you could come over to my house, and we could play some games.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds good,” Cain agreed, giving Abel a small smile.

Abel stepped a little closer to him, speaking softly so only Cain could hear. “And then um, because you know, my mom… doesn’t _know_ …”

“Mm-hm?” Cain answered, leaning in and seeming slightly more interested.

“She would probably let you spend the night. If you wanted.” Cain’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and realizing why, Abel quickly started to backpedal. “Oh I don’t mean like _that_ . No… I mean, maybe we would make out or whatever, but not… not _that_ ,” he said. Cain quirked up a single eyebrow then, watching Abel closely, reading him like he always did. Abel felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to provide an explanation. “I was just thinking that... we might be up kinda late, and maybe you would wanna just crash at my place, instead of driving home, you know... when all the drunks are out... on the road… and stuff...”

Cain chuckled, rolling his eyes and then looking down at him with a smirk. “You don’t have to talk me into it, sweetheart,” he teased. “I want to. Sounds like fun.”

“Oh!” Abel laughed in relief. “Great!”

“I’ll just follow you home in my car, if that’s okay,” Cain said, shrugging.

“Oh yeah, sure, I was wondering about that,” Abel said quietly, a little disappointed that Cain wasn’t going to ride with him on his bike and have to hold onto him around the middle to stay on.

Cain nodded, seeming like he had woken up a bit finally. “Yeah that works.”

“Okay!” Abel beamed, and then gasped as he remembered something important. “Oh! Um… I think this is the part, where we exchange numbers,” he declared.

“Really,” Cain smiled at him. “Did you get some sort of dating timeline off of Wikipedia or something?”

“No…” Abel pouted, but only a little because Cain was fishing a pen out of the front pocket of his backpack.

“You want me to write my digits on your hand all old-school-like?” Cain offered once the pen was in his hand. He clicked it cheerfully, as if preparing the pen for some exalted purpose.

“If you want,” Abel said shyly, feeling himself blush a little more. Smiling at him, Cain took up his hand, and brought it closer to his face to study it for a moment. He ran his thumb along the highest crease of Abel’s palm, and then wrote a sequence of numbers on the top of it, using the line as a guide.

Abel felt himself relax, as he focused on the comforting warmth of having his hand inside of Cain’s. It was almost becoming a familiar sensation, and one that Abel feared would always end too soon. It took a moment for him to come back to his senses, when Cain let go of his hand and held the pen out to him.

Abel took the pen, and then Cain’s offered hand, staring at it blankly, as he tried to remember what his own number was, anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, what is taking you so long in there?!” Encke called into the shower, his voice booming and echoing off the tile walls.

Cain squeezed a dollop of conditioner into his hand, the bottle betraying him by spitting it out noisily like a fart. “I’ll be out in a minute!” he answered.

“You said that five minutes ago!” his friend complained.

“I mean it this time, I’m almost done!” Cain assured him, carefully working the masculine-scented liquid into the ends of his hair, and then upward. He’d waited for everyone else to get out of the communal shower to do this, so that no one would see him primping any more than usual, or smelling any better than usual. Of course Encke would insist on waiting for him and nagging for him to get out because that was what friends did.

Finally, Cain rinsed his hair out and turned off the water, wrapping a towel over his head and pulling on his best pair of underwear before he walked back out into the locker room, rubbing his hair dry.

Encke was standing there next to his locker with his arms crossed, impatiently waiting. “Oh, you must think you’re gettin’ lucky tonight,” he observed immediately. Damn him. “Got a date?”

“What makes you say that?” Cain said gruffly, as he hurriedly threw on some clothes and avoided eye contact.

“‘Cause,” Encke said, taking a step closer to him. “You smell good, and you’ve got your nice panties on.”

Cain whipped around to face him, eyes wide and cheeks reddening from hearing Encke talk like that. Encke just put his hands up in front of him, absolving himself from any effect he might have had. “Boxers,” Cain growled. “Not panties. Ugh, what _ever!”_ he exclaimed, and pulled his shirt over his head, silently willing himself to not be turned on.

“Hey, don’t go all Phobos on me!” Encke laughed, earning another glare from Cain which he just laughed off. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“You’re horrible,” Cain said, rolling his eyes.

“Are you nervous?” Encke teased, grinning from ear to ear, so pleased with himself that Cain wanted to punch him. He slammed his locker closed instead.

“Shut it,” he hissed. “You better be glad you’re my best friend or you’d be out cold on the floor right now,” he warned, pointing at the bare cement below them for good measure.

That finally made Encke frown. “No, seriously, what’s eating you? You seeing Abel again?”

“Yeah?” Cain answered, tsking defensively.

“So what’s got you in such a bad mood, for Chrissake?” Encke sneered, looking him up and down. “Isn’t that a good thing? Especially seeing as you ran off on him last time?”

Cain pursed his lips, moping as he realized he wasn’t going to get out of it. “Ugh… okay maybe I am nervous,” he admitted with a sigh and hung his head down, a half-apology.

“Alright, sit down,” Encke ordered, pointing to the nearby bench. They both straddled the thing, facing each other and crossing their arms. “Now what the fuck have you got to be nervous about?” he inquired. “You know what to do. We’ve been over this. It’s all about communication--”

Cain cut him off with a hand, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that,” he complained. “Between you and Bering, I’ve had enough sex talks, thank you.” Not that he and Abel were going to have sex, Abel had made that clear, but Encke didn’t need to know that part.

“Then what is it, man?” Encke implored.

Cain took a deep breath and sighed it out, building up nerve. “Abel invited me over to play _video games,”_ he groaned mournfully.

Encke’s eyes went back and forth a few times. “...So?”

Cain tsked and rolled his eyes again. _“So,_ I’m just poor white trailer trash who can’t afford that kind of shit, Encke! Or had you forgotten?”

“So? You’ve played video games at Deimos’s house--”

“And I _sucked,”_ Cain argued. “Couldn’t figure out what the fuck to do, remember? After a while, you guys just told me to hide so the other team couldn’t kill me anymore,” he pouted.

Encke’s eyes went wide and lifeless as he did remember. “Oh. Right. Shit,” he said flatly.

“Yeah. Fuck me,” Cain snorted, leaning forward to hide his head in his hands.

“Well…” Encke said thoughtfully after a few moments. “No, maybe it’ll be alright.”

Cain pulled his hands away from his face and gave him a doubtful look. “How. How is it gonna be alright?” he half-pleaded.

“Alright, come on,” Encke said, standing up from the bench and beckoning for Cain to follow. He went over to a chalkboard where someone had drawn one of their team’s plays, which Encke erased and began drawing a play of his own. There was a triangle and a square that made up a house, and then two defensive players, and two offensive players.

“Okay…” Encke said, gesturing to his drawing. “First of all, what you have to understand, is that the whole video games thing is just a ruse. It’s just an excuse to get you into his house, right?”

Cain nodded slowly. “Right…?”

“He’s gotta get you past his parents,” Encke said, pointing to the two X’s that were guarding the house. “Obviously he can’t tell them he’s inviting you over just to suck face, or whatever.”

“Hmm… right…?” Cain agreed, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

“Once he gets you _into_ the house,” Encke drew a long arrow with his chalk, from the O that represented Cain, around the X's and into the house. “The plans are gonna be real flexible. You could easily suggest that you watch a movie, or play chess, or even just make out instead. He’s not gonna care most likely, as long as he’s getting to do something _with you,”_ he said, turning to the real Cain and pointing his dust covered finger.

“True… true…” Cain said slowly. “But it really sounded like he had something specific in mind,” he pointed out.

“Well, even so,” Encke shook his head, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “All you have to say is something like, ‘I’ve never played this particular game before.’ You don’t have to go into any detail, about any other game that you _may_ or _may not_ have played in the past. And he probably won’t think twice about having to teach you how to play that one game.”

Cain’s gaze wandered up to the ceiling as he thought about it, internalizing the strategy for later. “Okay…”

“If he _does_ corner you about it, then you can always just turn it into a positive,” Encke continued, drawing a little Cain O that was literally in a corner of the house. “You can say something like, ‘Well, I’m just _so_ busy with studying, and football practice, and work, and helping out my mom, and rescuing puppies from burning buildings, that I really don’t have time to play video games.’”

Thrown off by that last part, Cain squinted at him. “Rescuing… puppies?”

“Well, you get the point,” Encke answered dismissively. “You have a life,” he said, pointing at Cain’s chest. “Focus on that part. Maybe exaggerate it a _little.”_

“Hmm… yeah,” Cain put a finger over his lip, mulling it over. “You know, that could work!” he chuckled, feeling incredibly relieved.

Out of nowhere, Coach Bering cleared his throat, stepping into view and startling the crap out of both of them. “You boys know that I can’t leave until you leave, right?” he said gruffly.

“Yes sir,” Encke answered for the both of them. “We were just on our way out.”

Bering narrowed his eyes as he looked at the play on the chalkboard, and took a few interested steps forward. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, nothing,” Encke shrugged. “Cain just needed some dating advice, is all.”

“Oh, uh, well I see,” Bering said, clearing his throat out and visibly uncomfortable. He looked over at Cain. “Well, good luck, and remember to be respectful and--”

“Wear a condom,” Cain finished with him, rolling his eyes.  “Got it, Coach.”

“Alright, then,” Bering conceded. “See you boys on Monday, then,” he said, letting them know they were unilaterally dismissed.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Eyes getting progressively bigger, Cain could tell as he followed behind Abel’s bike, that he was being led into one of the nicest parts of town. The houses seemed to get bigger and bigger, too, until finally the road led to a dead end, with a huge two-story house that sat off by itself on a hill. And that of course, was where Abel pulled into the driveway and turned off his bike. He looked back and pulled off his helmet, giving Cain a gentle, but excited smile as he shook out his unruly hair.  

Cain turned off the engine and stepped out, pulling his overnight bag from the passenger seat. “You didn’t tell me you were rich,” he teased as he approached Abel, who was waiting for him at the edge of the lantern-lit sidewalk, that led up to the ginormous house.

“I’m not _rich,”_ Abel insisted, crossing his arms defensively.

“What’s that over there?” Cain asked, pointing to a separate driveway that led to a door on the side of the house.

“Oh, that’s the servants’ entrance,” Abel grumbled. “But we don’t actually, you know… have servants -- I mean, we have a cleaning service that comes once a week, but -- this house is just really old and used to belong to people who… had them…”

“Uh huh,” Cain said, giving him a look. Giving up, Abel sighed and turned around to lead him to the front door, but Cain hurried around him and stepped in his way. There was something they needed to talk about first. “So… your parents don’t... _know?”_ he asked, echoing Abel's tone from the other day.

“No…” Abel moped. “Where I’m from… things were just different there,” he said quietly.

“Hmm…” Cain grunted in understanding, sensing he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well I just wanna make sure we have our story straight, in case I get cornered by one of ‘em,” he explained, and Abel nodded at the ground. “So we’re just like… friends?”

“Yeah,” Abel answered.

“Do you have some girl at school that they think you’re into, or something?”

“Um… no?” Abel laughed a little. “I just pretend I’m too focused on school to care about that stuff.”

Cain nodded slowly, taking the answer in, but still curious if Abel was interested in girls at all.  “So not like… Anna, or someone like that?” he tried.

“ What? No…” Abel answered, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“Why not? Anna’s cute,” Cain prodded him accusingly, making Abel frown even more.

“Why are you trying to set me up with Anna?” Abel scolded incredulously, and then his eyebrows shot up as he thought of something. “Wait, do _you_ think that Anna is cute?!” he demanded.

Cain scoffed. “No,” he said, trying not to smile. “I’m just trying to get my story straight, is all.”

“Uh-huh,” Abel echoed, and then walked past him and towards the front door.

 

Cain checked his phone one last time as they stepped inside, just to make sure his mother hadn’t called, but quickly put it away when he heard a female voice greeting them. “Hey, Pumpkin,” she said as she stepped into the entryway, dressed in expensive but casual clothes and big jewelry, her white hair pinned back in a stylish bun.

“Hey mom,” Abel answered, and gestured back at his guest. “This is Cain.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, Mrs. Abel’s mom,” Cain said, offering his hand and making her giggle at him. He felt like he needed to make a good impression, even if he wasn’t being introduced to her as a potential boyfriend for her son.

“Oh, welcome,” she said warmly as she shook his hand. “Please make yourself at home.”

“Thank you. You have a very nice house,” Cain commented, looking up at the double stairway and the large crystal chandelier that sent little sparkles of light throughout the room.

“Well, we are very blessed,” Abel’s mom admitted, and graciously changed the subject. “Ethan tells me you’re on the football team.”

It took Cain a second to realize she meant Pumpkin. Err, Abel. “Oh, yes ma’am.”

“What position do you play?” she asked. Abel stood behind her and rolled his eyes where only Cain could see. He’d warned Cain at dinner that his mom was a big football fan.

“Middle linebacker,” Cain boasted, standing up a little straighter.

Abel’s mother frowned a bit. “Hmm, you’re a bit skinny for a linebacker, aren’t you dear?” she worried.

“Well, I make up in speed for what I lack in size,” Cain explained, wondering after if he could have worded it a bit less suggestively.

Abel’s mom didn’t seem to notice, though. “Of course,” she agreed pleasantly, and then turned to her son. “Ethan.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some sheets and pillowcases tumbling in the dryer for Cain’s air mattress. Go get them for me please?” she instructed.

“Oh, sure,” Abel answered, and wandered into another part of the house, leaving Cain alone there with his mom.

“You didn’t have to do laundry for me, Mrs. Abel’s mom!” he insisted, just to keep the silence from getting awkward. “I would have been fine sleeping on the couch or something.”

She clutched at her heart, looking intensely offended. “Oh, no! No guest of mine is going to sleep on the couch!” she protested, her honor apparently at stake. “We have a guest bedroom you could stay in, but Ethan said sleeping in the same room was part of male bonding time or something like that...” she said, chuckling about it.

“Heh,” Cain laughed with her. “I guess he’s right, it wouldn’t be a real sleepover if I slept in a different room.”

Abel’s mom folded her hands together in front of her, determined to change the subject again. “Now, Cain, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

He leaned his head down to hear her, since she was speaking a bit softer than before. “Hmm?”

“How is Ethan doing at school?” she asked carefully. “Is he getting along with everyone?”

“Oh, sure,” Cain nodded. “He’s pretty well-liked by everybody. Has lots of friends from what I can tell,” he said, then thought hard about how to word the next part of his answer. “There’s a few people he doesn’t get along with, but… they’re people that nobody gets along with honestly.”

“I see. Well that’s good to hear?” she said, but still looked a bit worried.

“The girls at school are all crazy about him,” Cain mumbled to her, to cheer her up. It wasn’t Cain’s favorite fact, but it was true.

She raised her eyebrows, looking thoroughly amused. _“Really?”_ she simpered with a big smile.

“Oh yeah,” Cain assured her. “You know how girls are, they always go for the new kid. He’s pretty oblivious to it, though. Always got his nose buried in books.”

Abel’s mother looked thoughtful for a moment, working up to something. “So, he’s not getting picked on, or bullied or anything like that?” she prodded quietly.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Cain answered with a frown. “I wouldn’t--”

Cain stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the look on her face. Carefully trying to hide something that showed in her eyes, a fierce but quiet determination to protect her son. She was asking these questions for a reason. A pang of fury shot through him, followed very closely by a pang of envy.

"I wouldn’t let that happen,” Cain said, as darkly as he dared without seeming to care _too much._ “If anybody f-... If anybody messed with him, they’d have to answer to me.”

“Well,” she said, taking a step forward, and putting a gentle hand on Cain’s arm. “I’m so glad to know Ethan has a friend like you,” she said with a thin smile. Cain smiled back at her, gratified that he’d so quickly earned her trust, even if he felt a bit hollow about it.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, as just at that moment Abel rushed back into the room, looking mortified as his eyes darted back and forth between Cain and his mom, the pile of sheets in his arms hiding part of his face.

Once again, Abel’s mother expertly changed the tone of the conversation. “Now, Cain, do make yourself at home,” she said to him pointedly. “You need anything, just ask. ‘Our casa es su casa.’”

“Yes ma’am,” Cain concurred, as Abel started to lead him up the large flight of stairs.

“And Ethan, don’t make him put those sheets on himself, you do it for him,” she called to Abel sternly.

“Yes, mom,” Abel sighed, and Cain just chuckled at him, trying to stealthily flirt with him while his mother continued to call up to them to have fun, and not to make too much noise that might disturb Abel's father, and make sure that Cain ate something if he got hungry, etc, etc, etc.

 

“What did you say to her?” Abel half-demanded, half-laughed once his bedroom door was closed.

“Ethan?” Cain inquired, dodging Abel’s question as he set his bag down on the floor next to his air mattress.

“Oh. Yeah, only my parents call me that,” Abel explained, rolling his eyes.

“‘Kay,” Cain said, accepting this with a shrug. "What about Pumpkin?"

“Uh, no. Seriously, what did you say to her?!” Abel prodded. He threw the pile of laundry onto the mattress, then put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side.

Cain took a moment to observe his surroundings instead. Abel had all kinds of posters on the wall, figurines, models, a computer over in the corner, and a big flat screen tv with two kinds of consoles stored underneath. “This is a really nice room, by the way.”

“ _Cain.”_

“Alright, geez,” he chuckled. “She just… wanted to know how you were getting along at school. She was just worried about you, is all,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh…” Abel’s expression fell, and he collapsed into the sofa at the foot of his bed with a sigh. Cain wandered over and sat beside him, concerned that their sleepover wasn’t getting off to a great start if Abel was already moping.

“I, um… kinda got bullied at my old school,” Abel said quietly, staring at his sneakers and socks as he slipped them off his feet.

Cain started to do the same. “Because you were--”

“Yeah…” Abel answered almost too quickly, like he just couldn't quite bear hearing the word out loud. “I didn’t tell my parents until it got really bad. I didn’t ever tell them the _whole_ story obviously. So I guess she feels like she has to spy on me now.”

“Do I need to go to your old school and kick someone’s ass?” Cain offered, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

“No, don’t worry…” Abel said, giving him the same thin smile his mother had.  “I didn’t expect to be, but I’m so much happier here -- but don’t let my dad hear that ‘cause I was pretty pissed at him for moving us,” he said, making them both laugh a little. “I don’t think very many people at school _know,_ but at least I don’t have to be afraid of them finding out,” he admitted.

Abel was still avoiding eye contact, so Cain reached over and grabbed him gently by the chin, making Abel look at him with those big doe eyes. “Seriously, Abel. If anybody gives you shit, for anything, I will break their face,” he promised.

“Um… thanks?” Abel said, smiling awkwardly at him. “Well… um… speaking of violence,” he said, and held up a plastic disc case. “This is the game I thought we could play. I mean, I have lots of games, but… I thought you might like this one.”

Cain took the case from him, flipping it over, pretending to know what he was looking at. “I don’t know this one,” he said, trying to remember Encke’s advice.

“Oh, it’s pretty easy to learn,” Abel said, and handed Cain a controller. Then he loaded up the game and quickly maneuvered through several screens before Cain could even tell what was going on. “Here… okay first you have to pick a character,” Abel explained, flipping through the different options. “You can be a warrior, a ranger, a sorcerer, a monk… a gunslinger… a death knight…an alchemist...”

“Whoa wait,” Cain said, holding up his hand to stop the progression. “Go back to death knight…”

Abel flipped back to a character that had ominous-looking black armor covered in skulls.

“Yeah,” Cain breathed reverently. That was the character for him.

“That’s what you wanna be?” the blond asked, and Cain nodded at him. “Okay…” Abel giggled.

“What,” Cain demanded. “What do death knights suck or something?”

“No, no, it’s fine. So do you wanna be a human, an elf, or a dwarf?”

Cain looked up at the tall, handsome, pointy-eared humanoid on the screen and then over at Abel, trying to contain his excitement. “I can be an elf?”

“Mmhm,” Abel answered, beaming at him.

“Are _you_ gonna be an elf?”

Abel pressed his lips together, clearly trying to to contain how pleased he was with himself. “Do you want me to be an elf?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

“I’ll be an elf,” Abel conceded shyly, thus settling the matter for Cain's character as well. “Okay… you can be male, female, or genderless.”

“Oh, uh… I guess I’ll be male,” Cain answered with a shrug.

“Okay, I’m gonna be an alchemist… _elf_ … genderless,” Abel said, going through the various character options in about one second flat. Cain could tell already that this was going to be a massacre.

“Okay, so what do I do?” Cain asked him, staring horrified at the controller full of buttons and sticks and triggers.

Abel scooted a little closer to him, leaning over to point at various things on the device. Cain decided quickly that video games weren't so bad. “So you use these buttons to attack… you build up points and then you can use them to do one of your special attacks with these two buttons. Mostly you just wanna spam this button here.”

“Spam? What is spam?” Cain asked with wide, panicked eyes.

“Oh, um, it just means to mash it over and over again as fast as you can,” Abel answered patiently.

“Spam. Okay, I think I got it,” Cain lied. “Now what?”

“Now we fight to the _death,"_ Abel declared, pressing a button on his controller, and the game played an ominous fanfare.

“What?!” Cain yelped, frantically mashing buttons as the duel began. “Isn’t there like… a tutorial or something?!”

“Oh, spam X, spam X!” Abel reminded him loudly.

“I’m spamming dammit!” Cain fake-sobbed, and then his death knight took an arrow to the face and fell over.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Abel realized, looking over at his opponent. “Sorry,” he said with a wince and a smug grin.

Cain narrowed his eyes, fuming a little. “You’re not sorry…” he growled playfully, but Abel just giggled at him, hiding his face behind his controller. He was really too cute for Cain to be very mad. “Okay, that’s fine, that’s fine… just you wait. I’m gonna get this,” Cain said with a devious smirk. His sense of competition was starting to get riled up.

“Again?”

“Again,” Cain ordered, with a determined gleam in his eye.

 

An hour later, Cain still hadn’t won a game, but he was getting better and better with each round. He and Abel were throwing elbows at each other, their virtual game getting amusingly physical as they tried to push each other away and block the others’ sight of the screen, exchanging competitive banter all the while.

And then, it happened. Abel’s alchemist failed to dodge a stab to the chest from the death knight's sword, and collapsed to the ground with one last bellowing cry, potions spilling and bubbling everywhere.

“Oh my god, you won!” Abel exclaimed in disbelief.

“I won?” Cain repeated, staring at his character as it did a victory salute. “I won!” he cried out, raising his controller above his head in his excitement.

“Wow, good job, you caught on fast,” Abel said, always the encourager. Cain didn’t quite believe it though. Tossing the controller aside, he pounced on Abel, pinning him to the couch underneath him. Even then, Abel managed to have a smug look on his face, like it was his idea for Cain to do it.

“You let me win, didn’t you?” Cain accused, growling like before.

Abel shook his head insistently. “Nope, you won fair and square.”

“Hmmm, well in that case,” Cain pondered. “What do I win?”

“Um… what do you mean?” Abel asked, still smiling.

“I think I should get some kind of reward,” he said, looking down at Abel’s lips, which moved against each other slowly like they were calling to him.

“L-Like what?” Abel stammered, still apparently playing dumb.

“Dunno,” Cain answered huskily, moving a piece of hair that was threatening to get into Abel’s eye. “Maybe a kiss… from a fair elf princess?”

Abel’s eyes wandered upward, like he needed to mull over the idea. But he was still smiling. “Hmm… your request is granted,” he said softly, and closed his eyes when Cain moved in closer, to press their lips together just as soft.

Cain had a hunch from the last time they kissed that Abel didn’t really know what he was doing, so he went easy on him, being much more forgiving than his host had been with their game. He didn’t try anything fancy at first, just let Abel get used to the pacing and rhythm of it, just lips moving against lips. Even so, it seemed like Abel was putting an adorable amount of concentration into keeping up. Cain did add his hand into the mix, slowly wandering down Abel’s side, gratified when even that simple touch made the blond hum quietly against his mouth.

And then the door opened.

“Ethan!”

Cain had never moved so fast in his life. In an instant he was on the other side of the couch from Abel, trying to look like absolutely nothing had happened as he looked up at the door. Luckily it had only opened enough for Abel’s mom to talk to them, but not see anything. Cain forced himself to breathe, suddenly too hot and too cold all at once.

“Yes???” Abel answered, voice cracking. Cain bit his fist to stifle a hysterical snicker.

“Make sure Cain knows that if the air mattress isn’t comfortable he can always sleep in the guest bedroom,” his mother called out.

“Okay, mom…”

“Goodnight, sweetie.”

“‘Night!”

The pair of them just stared at each other then. Cain’s heart was beating a million miles an hour, and it looked like Abel felt the same. After what seemed like an eternity, when it finally felt safe, Cain let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Phew, that was close,” he chuckled, smiling at the blond, whose cheeks were very, very pink.

“Yeah,” Abel agreed, and then smiled deviously. “But I think I know what to do about that.”

“Yeah?” Cain replied, and watched as Abel stood and padded over to the door, and leaned backwards against it, never taking his eyes away from Cain as he turned the lock, slow and quiet. Then he went over and sat on his big bed, crooking a finger to beckon Cain to him.

Heart beating impossibly faster, but not wanting to ruin the silent excitement of the moment, Cain slowly rose up from the sofa, and crawled onto the bed, not making a sound as he took his place at Abel’s side.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“So…" Abel said quietly, trying to diffuse his nervousness with small talk. "This is my bed…” he intoned, gesturing at its expanse like a tour guide.

“It’s a nice bed," Cain observed, clearly playing along as he poked at the comforter. "It’s very soft. Is it made of marshmallows?”

Abel let out an amused grunt. “Not quite…" he replied, not wanting to discourage Cain's crazy imagination. "Um, would you like to get under the covers with me?” he offered hopefully.

Cain's smile grew significantly wider at that. “Okay," he answered, so Abel shifted to pull back the covers. Both of them slipped inside, settling to lay facing each other, close enough to touch, but not really touching. Abel pulled the sheet over their heads, hiding them in dim light and making it feel more secretive and exciting.

He scooted a little closer to Cain and whispered conspiratorially. “So obviously you don’t actually have to sleep on the air mattress. You can sleep up here in the bed with me if you want.”

Cain raised an eyebrow at him, shifting so their bare feet were touching each other. “Okay?" he agreed.

“I mean, you don’t have to sleep up here if you don’t want to either," Abel reminded him. "And obviously, we’d have to change into our pajamas and stuff either way. I wasn’t planning on sleeping in my clothes.” Abel knew somehow he was rambling but couldn’t stop himself, especially when it seemed that something had grabbed Cain’s attention and he was glancing away, looking bored. “But you know, it’s not like we’d be _naked_ or anythi--”

He completely forgot what he’d been saying when he noticed Cain’s hand, felt one finger trace slowly down his flank, barely noticeable through his shirt but somehow making his skin tingle all the same. Abel gazed into Cain’s eyes as the finger made its way down his thigh, Cain’s expression unreadable with just a hint of a smirk, and Abel fought to keep his face the same way as his cock began to throb from just that simple touch. Cain reached up to press a gentle finger over Abel’s lips, and then brushed the hair out of his eyes, tips of his fingers tickling, running through his hair to the base of his neck, and Abel let himself be kissed because he’d forgotten what words were anyway.

Cain seemed content to make himself infinitely familiar with Abel’s bottom lip, sucking it between his own and nibbling on it as he snaked an arm around Abel’s waist, pulling their bodies flush against each other and then sliding his hand over Abel's ass to his thigh, to pull Abel’s leg between his own. Abel had just enough time to breath out a sigh of pleasure between kisses, approving of tangling up like this, so his mind couldn’t make sense of where Abel ended and where Cain began, couldn’t make sense of the fact that this was _real,_ he was kissing a _boy_ in his _room_ in his _house_.

Cain’s fingers squeezed at the back of his thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling Abel even more forward until he was almost on top of Cain, draped over him with an arm and a leg. Even then, their mouths never separated, just became more melded together until Cain’s tongue was pushing into Abel’s mouth, gently exploring. Abel held on with one hand in his hair, as Cain squeezed at his ass again with both hands and then slipped them up beneath his shirt.

Abel was already getting hard, something about the skin to skin contact making it way too real, way too much even if Cain was just massaging his lower back with those strong, football-stealing fingers, then tracing along his spine. In some deeply-programmed instinct, Abel jutted his hips forward, pressing his erection into Cain’s thigh, and Cain made some unintelligible noise.

Abel quickly pulled away with a smack of lips. “Oh, sorry,” he said, feeling his face burn impossibly redder, though he’d just realized he was burning in the first place.

Cain’s brows stitched together with a piercing look that went straight to Abel’s dick for a reason he refused to try to understand. He got an image of Cain giving that look over glasses and thanked the stars above the other boy had 20/20 vision. “What are you apologizing for?” Cain asked with concern.

“I, um,” Abel tried. “Didn’t mean to touch you with my. You know.”

Cain’s face melted into his usual boyish wickedness. “You mean _this?”_ he said, reaching down to brush his hand against the outline of Abel’s cock through his jeans. Abel just gasped and nodded, pushing his face forward to brush his lips against Cain’s lips, wanting to be kissed but not having the faculties to do it with Cain touching him like that, making him drip through layers of fabric.

“You definitely don’t have to apologize for _this,”_ Cain murmured as he squeezed at the head with his thumb, pulling away to press kisses to Abel’s jaw and make his nerves come alight. Abel shuddered, just closing his eyes and absorbing the sensation, the way Cain breath heaved heavy in his ear, the way little droplets of sweat were starting to accumulate in the hair between Abel’s fingers.

He tried his best to kiss back, mouthing at Cain's neck just as the other boy pulled his hand away and made Abel whine at the loss. But then Cain was grabbing him by the hips and pulling Abel easily on top of him, Abel's own erection brushing against something just as hard as his knees came to rest on the mattress. "You're not the only one, y'know," Cain said with a smile that could almost have been described as shy if it hadn't been for the way he rolled his hips.

Abel took in a sharp breath as he was lifted slightly off the bed by the movement, their cocks pressed together to create the most unbearable heat. He could feel his pulse in his whole body, so he could hardly register Cain chuckling at him over the pounding in his ears. He moved his own hips experimentally, not wanting it to stop, and through some sort of beginner's luck managed to do something that felt so good he moaned. _Loud_.

Eyes wide as saucers, Abel had his hand clapped over his mouth entirely too late, looking down at Cain and the similar look of amused shock on his face. The other boy brought a finger over his bright smile, shushing and teasing at the same time.

Abel snickered behind his hand, half hysterical and half horrified, smiling at Cain with only his eyes. Cain dragged his gaze down to where they were pressed against each other, and back up to Abel's eyes, and the awkward moment was suddenly gone, everything going quiet and still, save for Cain's wandering hands.

Those hands settled on his hips, gripping insistently and encouraging Abel to move as Cain locked gazes with him, pulling him in with his fingers and his eyes. Abel rutted against him, rolling his hips for more friction as he blushed hard and watched Cain swipe his tongue over his own lip, something inviting or demanding in the motion that made Abel miss the way it felt inside his mouth. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Cain’s, his own tongue searching out, but Cain’s teeth caught it before it could get very far. Cain suckled on it, groaning like it was the most delicious fruit he’d even had between his lips, and then Abel was a goner, gasping sharply as he humped against Cain and came hard, moaning into the other boy’s mouth. Cain held onto him so tight Abel wondered if he’d ever stop feeling the imprint of Cain’s fingers on his hips, if he’d ever have another orgasm without a bit of delicious phantom pain.

Abel was completely undone, sweat dripping down his temple, barely lucid enough to realize Cain’s subtle look of discomfort as the other boy drank in his state with intense eyes. He looked down at Cain’s erection, and his own soiled jeans, then back up at Cain.

“Do you want me to -- I suppose that's a stupid question,” he winced, to which Cain just breathed out a laugh and clamped his teeth over his lip for a moment, like answering the question would have been equally painful. Abel focused on Cain’s reddened parted lips as he blindly felt for the button of his jeans, pulling it open as something underneath twitched at him impatiently. Cain on the other hand decided, apparently, that it was a good time to sit up for another kiss, sneakily pulling Abel’s shirt up and exposing his chest to the cool air. Abel raised his arms up, silently concurring with the excellent idea and allowing Cain to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. Cain went for his own shirt next, barely waiting for Abel to help him before exposing his own very chiseled torso.

Very.

Chiseled.

“Abel--”

“Hmm!” Abel quickly looked up, mortified to realize he’d been shamelessly staring at Cain’s muscles. Cain gave him that same condescending look as before. “I’m up here,” he scolded, cracking into laughter as he said it.

It was Abel’s turn to pull at his lip with his teeth. “That’s funny, cuz I though you were down here,” he retorted, and slipped a hand into Cain’s jeans.

Cain raised an eyebrow at him as Abel navigated through layers of clothes. “We need to work on your dirty talk,” he teased, as he relaxed and closed his eyes.

“Oh _sorry,”_ Abel groused, “I don’t know what I’m d-- Oh…” Abel blurted, his fingers wrapping tentatively around soft skin.

Cain’s eyes flew open. “What?” he breathed, looking like he was trying very hard not to look desperate for Abel to continue.

“Your, um… hot dog has a bun on it,” Abel commented flatly, and pressed his lips together.

Cain broke into a quiet but hysterical laugh. “What are we, five?” he chuckled. “I really prefer a sword and sheath metaphor, thank you very much--”

“I think that would be a euphemism,” Abel replied, maybe teasing _a little_ as he pulled the ‘sheath’ back and squeezed at the exposed head of Cain’s cock.

“Nngh!” Cain clawed at Abel’s thigh, and Abel was sure he was enjoying his reaction way too much. “I -- suddenly don’t care anymore--” Cain croaked. “Just -- keep doing that...”

“What, _this?”_ Abel inquired deviously as he twisted his wrist just _so._

 _“Fuck,"_ Cain whispered, mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezed shut. Abel smiled huge; he’d honestly not expected getting someone else off to be this much fun. He looked down to watch his fingers squeeze slick around the head of Cain’s cock, observing with fascination the slight hitch in the other boy’s breath every time he repeated the motion, until finally Cain was muttering his name and clawing at the sheets, shooting milky white cum all over his washboard abs.

Abel had never seen anything so beautiful and enthralling in his entire life.

  
Cain threw his head back when he was spent, eyes wandering unseeing to the ceiling like he’d just been given some sort of concussion. Abel just giggled at him and the mess they’d made, and pried himself out of Cain’s lap to go get something to clean them up with.

"Why, Abel,” Cain teased as he climbed back onto the bed. “Why ever do you have a box of tissues by your computer?"

"Shut up," Abel snapped, but couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he pulled out a Kleenex and began to wipe Cain off.

"Do you have a _cold?"_

"Shut up, you know you have one, too,” Abel accused, and bopped Cain on the head with the box. Apparently Cain chose to take it as a challenge, as the next instant the tissue box was flying across the room and Abel was flipped over on his back, with Cain’s knees between his legs.

Cain pinned him down with an almost predatory, piercing stare, which quickly melted away before Abel could decide how he felt about it. "Actually I use a sock,” Cain stated matter-of-factly.

"A sock," Abel repeated.

"Yep."

"Like a specific sock, or--"

"No, just whatever sock happens to be nearby,” Cain shrugged.

"You don't have like a special sock, that was given to you by a former lover for just that purpose, or something?" Abel pried.

“Oh, is someone jealous?” Cain needled. “I didn’t peg you as the jealous type.”

Abel very purposefully  ignored his wording. “I’m not jealous,” he moped. “Just…” he started, and trailed off.

“Just…?” Cain prompted, still carrying on a pleasant conversation like he wasn’t holding Abel down like a captured prey. “What?”

“Intimidated?” Abel offered slowly.

Cain snorted at this, looking Abel up and down as if searching for some sign it was a joke. “You’re intimidated by Phobos?” he asked, and Abel nodded slightly. _“Why?”_ Cain demanded in disbelief.

“I dunno,” Abel moped some more.

Cain raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I think you do.”

“Well…” Abel conceded. “I guess I’m just worried that I’m not gonna be as good as him. At… stuff…”

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?” Cain asked. “Like drum major stuff?”

“No, like… sex stuff,” Abel whispered. Cain stared at him for a moment and then burst into laughter, to Abel’s dismay. _“Whaat?”_ he complained.

“Oh-ho-kay,” Cain snickered. “Let me just stop you right there,” he said and managed to calm down. “Phobos and I… did not… do… _that.”_

 _“Oh,”_ Abel frowned.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t... sleep with Phobos?!” Abel inquired, suddenly sensing a glimmer of hope.

“No!” Cain answered. “Did -- did someone tell you that?”

Abel had to think about it. “No…”

“Is that like a rumor that’s going around school?” Cain demanded. “That we were--”

“No, I just… wow,” Abel said, a bit mortified with himself. “Yeah, I just assumed that you and him were having, like… really amazing, awesome sex together.”

Cain finally let go of Abel, pulling his hands away and holding one finger out in front of him, as if warding Abel off with a sudden realization. “You… imagined me and Phobos having sex.”

“...Is that what I just said?” Abel asked, feeling numb.

Cain pointed in accusation at the box of tissues that was reclining precariously against the wall. _“_ _Please_ tell me you didn’t--”

“NO!” Abel exclaimed, sitting up to defend himself before Cain could even finish that train of thought.

“Okay, because _seriously,_ that would be--”

“NO!” Abel replied emphatically. “No. No.”

“--Kinda fucked up,” Cain finished.

“No.”

“Alright,” Cain said with a shudder, and relaxed against the bed next to Abel. “Well, anyway, you don’t have to worry about… that,” he muttered shyly.

Abel followed suit, laying down so his bare shoulder was touching Cain’s. “‘Kay.”

Cain yawned.

“Yeah,” Abel agreed.

“Too bad you have to get up to turn out the lights,” Cain joked. Abel looked over and met his eyes before reaching his hands up to clap twice and turn all the lights in the room off.

 

“You really are a genius, you know that?”

“I didn’t invent the thing, I just ordered it on Amazon.”

“Pfft, whatever...”

“Cain?”

“Hm?”

“How long do you wanna wait? Until we… you know.”

“Um… I dunno. You don’t wanna wait until you’re married or something like that, do you?”

“No… I don’t think I could wait that long. I’m kind of tired of being a virgin.”

“Well, being a virgin can have its advantages,” Cain suggested.

“It can.”

“Sure… obviously virgins have some sort of special magical properties. That’s why people sacrifice them to angry gods and throw them into volcanoes and stuff.”

“But I don’t _wanna_ be thrown into a volcano.”

“Well, then you’d better lose your virginity then!”

“Cain, you’re so terrible!”

“Haha, no pressure, really.”

“Well the pressure is that apparently I’m supposed to make sure it’s with the right person and that it’s special and romantic and stuff.”

“You don’t sound too convinced.”

“Well, that’s what everybody says, but I don’t think I actually know what that means. I just --” Abel sighed heavy.

“What.”

“I just know that I want to do it with you. But I don’t know if you’re like… my _soulmate_ or whatever. I mean maybe you are, but we barely know each other.”

“Right…?”

“Maybe it’s just supposed to be someone I care about, someone that I trust, and honestly I do care about you and I guess I trust you, but mostly... I just want to… throw myself at you shamelessly.”

 _"OOkay_ then!” Cain exclaimed, and both of them broke into laughter. Somehow in the dark, their hands found each other, and fingers tentatively intertwined. Abel’s stomach did a somersault of victory.

“So how do we make it special?” Cain asked quietly.

“I... have no frickin’ clue?” Abel answered, to Cain’s amusement. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think… it means you’re not supposed to do it spontaneously in the back of your car, or in an alley or something like that?”

“Right…?”

“You’re supposed to make sure you’ll have some time to yourselves… put on some baby-making music… light some candles…”

 _“Baby_ making--”

“It’s just an expression, pumpkin, don’t think about it too hard.”

For that, Abel managed to elbow Cain in the ribs without letting go of his hand.

Cain just laughed in response. “But seriously! You could um… put on some sexy lingerie?”

“Wait, what?”

“If you _want,_ it’s just a suggestion--”

“Do you want me to?”

“Um… well... not something _too_ girly, I just think… you have really nice…”

“I have really niiice…?”

“Everything?”

Abel smiled bright in the dark. He lay there for a few moments enjoying the comfortable silence before urging Cain to continue. “So… what would _you_ be wearing?”

“What would you want me to wear?”

“I dun-- _oh…”_

“Yes you do. Oh, it must be something good. You better tell me...”

“Um… you remember that black tank top you were wearing, when you came and found me after the game?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, that. You looked really good in it.”

“That’s it? Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Wow, you’re easy to please...”

“...I’m already kinda horny again just thinking about it.”

“Well, um… I guess… there’s other stuff we could do. In the meantime?”

“Like what?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's a little hard to tell who's talking at the end, I just liked the idea of not having a lot of narration since they were in the dark.  
>  ~~That and I just wanted to be done with this chapter cuz i've been stuck on it for 3 months~~


	13. Chapter 13

Abel absent-mindedly improvised on his flute, smearing notes together from some blues scale he’d heard somewhere as he warmed up before band class began. He shut out the quiet murmur of the other students in the background and focused in on memory instead, the heat of Cain’s mouth, Abel’s leg hiked up over Cain’s waist as they rocked together, half naked in the dark. The way Cain seemed to fit perfectly in his hand. The secret gift he had waiting for Cain in his backpack.

He lost himself in music, pulse spiking as he channeled his thoughts into a particularly difficult run of sixteenth notes. He played it a few more times, trying to perfect it, thinking maybe he should write something down before he forgot--

“Abel.”

“Oh!” He turned to see Mr. Cook standing over him, looking quite grim. “Yes sir?”

“Come to my office please,” the director said, making a precise and not-quite-inviting motion towards his door.

Abel put his flute back in his case and followed, wringing his hands wondering what he could have done wrong. Keeler was also in Mr. Cook’s office, brow furrowed with a mixture of irritation and worry -- and then there was Phobos. Leaning against the wall, with his arm in a sling. Abel could almost hear the misery radiating off him in waves once the door was shut behind them.

A black cast. Phobos had broken his arm.

“What happened?!” Abel fretted, but Phobos only answer with a dagger-esque glare.

Instead it was Keeler who spoke up. “Apparently, someone thought it would be a good idea to go horseback riding the weekend before competition!” he growled, and Abel gasped. Keeler was right: only five more days to practice and they were down a drum major.

“Hey, it’s not my fault they gave me a horse that was afraid of inanimate objects,” Phobos argued nastily.

“Keeler. Phobos, please,” Cook interjected, then looked over to Abel. “As you can see, Phobos is unable to perform his drum major duties for the next few months. We have a competition in exactly five days, and also the playoff season.”

“I can still conduct one handed--”

“Phobos, it’s already been decided,” Cook said sternly. “Abel, I need for you to shadow Phobos and learn how to conduct the show by this Saturday. Can you do it?”

Abel glanced over at Phobos, who was making a valiant attempt to burn a hole through Abel’s skull. “I can do this,” he asserted, and Phobos scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I can. I know the music. I-I’ve been practicing--”

“What, were you just _waiting_ for something to happen to me?!” Phobos shrieked. “You little--”

“That’s enough,” Cook interrupted. “You will also need to assist Phobos with his music librarian duties,” he added, and Phobos groaned loudly, knocking his head back against the wall.

“That’s fine,” Abel answered, trying to sound happy about it. He was finally getting what he wanted. If having to spend extra time with his arch-enemy was what he wanted.

“Well now that we have that settled,” Cook sighed. “Phobos, take Abel to the uniform room and see if he can fit into your drum major jacket. You two look to be about the same size.”

Phobos let out a pathetic whimper. “But Mr. Cook!”

“No ‘buts’, Phobos. For the good of the band, you need to do everything you can to help Abel, now.”

“Fine, whatever,” Phobos muttered, and stormed towards the door, barely getting it open far enough to pass through. It was a pretty heavy door to block out so much sound from the band hall.

“Oh here, let me help you,” Abel offered, reaching to pull the door’s weight off of his rival. But Phobos just batted his hands away.

“Ugh, whatever, just get away from me. Don’t touch me,” Phobos spat, and then sauntered off towards the uniform room, leaving Abel and some of his misery behind.

 

* * *

 

Cain had no sooner noticed Abel walking towards him than something was being thrown at him, and he barely reached out to grab it in time. Abel just walked right past him with a mischievous smile, so Cain frowned in suspicion, slowing his pace as he studied the gift.

“What’s that? Socks?” Encke asked, looking over.

Cain’s eyes went wide and he stopped dead in the middle of the hall. “Socks!” he breathed in awe, and turned his head back to find Abel in the crowd as his jaw hung open in shock. There the blond was, a little pink in his cheeks as he bit his lip and tried to walk backward and look sexy at the same time. Cain had never seen the benefit of getting socks for Christmas, but he was starting to understand. And it would seem Christmas was coming a couple months early this year.

“I don’t get it,” Encke complained as Cain turned back around. “What’s so special about socks? Are you _blushing?”_

“Don’t worry about it,” Cain snapped at him, and squeezed at the soft, knit material. Underneath, he could feel and hear something crinkle inside, so he unfolded the socks and reached inside. He pulled out a neatly-folded note, and then stuffed the socks into a pocket on his backpack for safe keeping.

He hurriedly unfolded the note, following Encke through the hallway so he wouldn’t run into anyone. _When/where can we meet for our “special night?” Maybe these can tide you over until then,_ Abel had written, accompanied by a very naughty-looking smiley face.

“What’s it say?” Encke pried, looking back at him.

“None of your fucking business,” Cain chided, but smiled helplessly behind the other boy’s back. Maybe they were only now making plans to sleep together, but he already knew, he was absolutely fucked when it came to Abel.

 

* * *

 

Practice was so awkward. They were supposed to be at attention anyway, but somehow Phobos managed to pointedly ignore him, the pair of them overlooking as the band members got ready for a full run-through of their show. Abel glanced over, trying to get Phobos to make eye contact in the harsh, glaring light of the setting sun. He knew if he was going to make it through this alive, he needed to make some kind of truce with the other boy.

“I’m really sorry about this--”

“Shut up,” Phobos said, cutting him off.

“I didn’t _want_ this to happen to you,” Abel insisted. “I just learned the music for practice, you know? I just like conducting. I was really fine with trying out for next year--”

“Abel… Shut. Up,” Phobos growled, and then it was time for them to march out onto the field.

 

He had plenty to say after the band played the first tune, however. Phobos turned and shrieked at Abel as soon as he stepped down from his podium. “What are you _doing?!”_

“What do you mean?” Abel answered, leaning on his heels to put some distance between himself and Phobos’s wrath.

“What the fuck is all of that… extra stuff you’re doing with your hands?” Phobos gestured dramatically with one hand, his elbow flapping uselessly under his sling.  “You’re doing it all wrong. You need to watch what Keeler is doing, you have to be doing the same thing as him.”

“I’m _sorry,_ I’m just doing it the way that I was taught at camp,” Abel said in his own defense. “But I was mirroring Keeler. I’ve only been watching him conduct all year, I know how he does it,” he scoffed.

“Tch,” was Phobos’s only retort.

“I just added in a few cues and things, that’s all,” Abel shrugged.

Phobos huffed out a sigh, crossing his good arm over the sling awkwardly. “God, Abel, you’re such a show-off…” he lamented, making Abel frown. “And a slut,” he muttered.

Abel’s jaw fell open. “What did you call me?!”

“I said,” Phobos answered, standing up a bit straighter. “You’re a limelight-hogging, back-stabbing, boyfriend-stealing slut! It’s all your fault he broke up with me.”

Abel’s mouth somehow managed to open even wider. “Oh, so -- so _that’s_ what this is about!” he accused.

“Yeah. It is,” Phobos said with a challenging glare. “So you can just forget about me doing anything to help you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Abel argued darkly. “You want to risk the band’s whole performance at competition just because your boyfriend broke up with you?!”

“Abel! Phobos!” Cook shouted, striding over to where the two boys were fighting. “That’s enough out of you two,” he scolded, pushing his glasses down to look them directly in the eyes. “We have a competition in five days! What kind of behavior is this? What kind of example are you showing to the band, acting that way?”

“Sorry, Mr. Cook,” Abel and Phobos both said.

“Alright, everyone take a break!” the director said to the band. “Keeler! Abel, show Keeler some of those cues you were doing, those were very good. I think the brass could benefit from those especially.”

“Yes, sir,” Abel moped, staring down at the ground instead of Phobos’s murderous glare.

 

* * *

 

Abel had steam coming out of his ears by lunch the next day. Carrying his tray, he marched over to the table where Cain and Deimos were sitting, and plopped himself across from the taller of the two. Cain looked up from his meal, and Abel knew he must have been visibly upset, by the what did I do? look Cain quickly formed on his face.

“Your ex is making my life a living hell,” he complained.

“Yeah, he does that,” Cain chuckled, and took a bite of macaroni.

Abel shook his head. There was no way he could just dismiss it so quickly. “Some girl in the lunch line told me she heard a rumor, that at my old school I got a girl _pregnant,”_ he growled.

Cain snorted, but then frowned when he saw Abel wasn’t laughing. “Well how do you know Phobos is telling people that?” he asked with his mouth half full.

“He broke his arm, so I have to -- get to be drum major in his place for the rest of the season,” Abel answered, and started picking at his food.

That seemed to get Cain’s attention. “Wow,” he said, sharing a look with Deimos.

“Yeah,” Abel said, feeling vindicated at last. “He called me a slut and accused me of stealing you yesterday during practice.”

Cain’s eyes went wide. He leaned back on his seat and sighed deeply, looking irritated. “Oh boy,” he huffed.

“I need you to tell me how to get back at him,” Abel demanded. “I need to get him off my back once and for all.”

Cain leaned forward then, looking Abel square in the eye, his jaw set as he set a finger on the table. “Don’t worry about Phobos. I’ll take care of it.”

Abel clicked his tongue. “I don’t need you to take care of it, okay?” he argued. “I just need you to give me something I can throw back at him so he leaves me alone.”

A slight movement got both of their attention, as Deimos had reached over and pulled on Cain’s sleeve. Cain looked over at his friend, who solemnly shook his head.

Cain, seeming to understand whatever it was Deimos was trying to say, slumped a little and turned back to Abel.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay, here’s what you do.”

“Yeah?” Abel replied, leaning into the table in anticipation.

“Become his friend,” Cain answered without really making eye contact.

“What,” Abel said through gritted teeth.

Cain sighed again. “You familiar with the Rule of Three?” he asked, and then shoved a steak finger into his mouth.

“No? What is that?” Abel asked, squinting one eye.

“Whatever you put out into the universe, it will come back to you threefold,” Deimos answered, and Cain tilted his head in the shorter boy’s direction and nodded with his mouth full, showing that he concurred. Abel tried not to look surprised; it was the first time he could remember hearing Deimos speak.

“Well, what does that mean?” he asked with a shrug. “Is that some sort of karma thing?”

“Sort of,” Cain answered, while Deimos just knocked his fringe out of his eyes in response. “Just know that the universe is gonna get revenge on Phobos for you. In fact, it probably already is. I guarantee you, however much he hates you, he hates himself three times as much.”

Abel’s brow creased in frustration. “That’s not… very helpful,” he pouted. Or encouraging.

“Sure it is,” Cain insisted, talking while making gestures with his spork. “If you keep antagonizing him, it’s just gonna create more drama and I’m gonna get caught in the middle,” he pointed out. “The only way you can truly stop this, is to get Phobos to stop hating you.”

“Well how on Earth do I do that?”

“Like I said, become his friend,” Cain repeated. “He doesn’t have a lot of those. He doesn’t trust people easily. Hell, it took me months to get him to talk to me without bein’ all, ‘What do you want? Why are you being nice to me?’” Abel snickered at how good Cain’s Phobos impersonation was. “...‘Course I was trying to get into his pants, but… you know,” Cain admitted.

Abel felt his cheeks heat up. He put his hand over his mouth so only Cain could see his lips. “Speaking of that…” he muttered.

Cain stopped chewing, one eyebrow arching up as he processed. Then he turned to Deimos, dismissing him with a little jerk of his head. Deimos picked up his tray and left without any protest, which Abel was glad for even if he found it curious.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. He leaned into the table, and Cain did the same.

“Did you find my note?” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the raucous sounds of the cafeteria.

“Yeah, I did,” Cain whispered back, smirking wickedly. “Um… you think your parents might be going out of town soon? Maybe for a weekend or something?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so. What about…” Abel looked around to make sure no one was looking. "Your place?”

Cain looked down and wiped his mouth with his fist, looking nervous. “I’m uh… I don’t know about that...”

“Why not?” Abel pried.

“Um.” Cain stared at his food for a few moments. “Never mind. I guess I can look into it. This weekend?”

“Oh, no, I can’t this weekend, sorry,” Abel winced. “We have our competition this Saturday.”

“Right," Cain nodded, looking a little relieved.

“We don't have to do it yet …” Abel offered, reaching for the other boy’s hand across the table. “If you're not ready.”

Cain snickered at that. “That's not it,” he chuckled, and suddenly there was a leg rubbing up against Abel's ankle. “You’re gonna drive me crazy with your little notes and socks and stuff.”

Abel smiled at him, clamping his teeth over his lip before he realized he must have picked up that habit from Cain himself. “Well you just seem unsure about something.”

Cain shrugged, eyes dragging along the table. “It’s just… my place isn’t as nice as yours.”

Abel snorted. “Cain, I live in the nicest house in town. I’m fully aware that no one’s place is as nice as mine,” he laughed.

“No, pumpkin,” Cain groaned, and Abel was sure he was being irritating on purpose. “I mean like… I kind of live in a trailer. In a trailer park.”

“So?” Abel shrugged, even if inwardly he cringed, knowing his mother wouldn’t like it and he’d probably have to fib about where exactly he was going. “I don’t care about that. As long as we can be alone together?”

Cain only scrunched his lips together and blinked, staring at Abel blankly before letting his eyes wander. “That might be a possibility,” he said finally. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay?” Abel giggled nervously. “Maybe… next weekend?”

Cain licked his lips and nodded, doing that bashful thing he did with his eyelashes as he smirked at Abel helplessly. Abel wondered if Cain knew what he was doing. He wondered if either of them did.

 


	14. Chapter 14

So here we are again. Another unfinished fic by yours truly, another summary to quell your curiosity.

Abel goes to competition with his marching band, they do well. Phobos is of course a jerk about the whole thing. Abel and Cain text while Abel is on the bus back home. Meanwhile Cain is cleaning the trailer from stem to stern in anticipation of his date with Abel the following weekend.  
Vicks stops by, and Cain confronts him about his mother’s scary trip. Vicks insists that, per the agreement he has with Cain, he does not give his mother any LSD without staying to supervise her. 

> Vicks put his hands up in front of him, eyes going wide. “Cain, I didn’t -- I didn’t give your mom any L?”
> 
> “Well somebody did,” Cain growled. “And apparently it was some bad shit, because she freaked the fuck out, and I had to come home and keep her from climbing up the walls all weekend.”
> 
> “Well, man, I’m really sorry that happened…” Vicks offered, sounding at least a little sincere. “I promise you, she’s only getting pure shit from me.”
> 
> “Are you sure?” Cain pressed, stepping a little closer to the dealer.
> 
> Vicks chuckled darkly, pulling his unbuttoned shirt open a little, a precise motion that just barely revealed the gun he had against his hip, just enough to make Cain’s blood go cold in his veins. “Hey, man I don’t want any trouble, okay?” the dealer said pointedly. “Vicks is an evangelist. I’m only here to spread the good news to people. And bad shit is bad news.”
> 
> “Then where did she get it?” Cain demanded, standing his ground even if he was smart enough not to fuck too much with a guy with a gun.
> 
> “Dunno,” Vicks shrugged, eyes wandering over the ground. “Maybe one of those boytoys of hers paid her in--”
> 
> “Paid her?!” Cain practically shouted.
> 
> Vicks had the look of a man who knew he’d said too much but was just high enough that he wasn’t going to stop talking. “You… d-didn’t know about that?” he stammered.
> 
> “No, I sure fucking didn’t,” Cain replied venomously, tilting his head and putting his hands on his hip. “How long has that been going on?”
> 
> Vicks shrugged again. “Since she lost her job, I guess.”
> 
> Cain took in a sharp breath, rubbing his cleaner-soaked hand over his mouth in frustration. He suddenly had the real urge to kill someone, though he wasn’t really sure who.

 

Meanwhile, Abel goes to Wal-Mart and purchases lingerie via the self checkout. Perhaps some other embarrassing items of import as well.

Abel comes over to Cain’s place the following weekend. He notices an old car outside, that’s up on blocks. It’s a Datsun, which neither of the two teens have ever heard of. He gets excited at the idea of fixing it up and Cain has to pull him away from the car because come on, Abel, we’re here to bang. Give the people what they want.  
Once inside, Cain goes in the back to get things ready. Left to his own devices, Abel notices some cards on the coffee table. Cain comes back in and freaks out, like “No don’t touch those!!!! They’re my mom’s and she’ll know that you touched them, I don’t know how but she can just tell these things and she’ll be mad!”  
Anyway, they go into Cain’s bedroom, which is romantically lit with all of Cain’s mom’s candles. He’s also blacked out the window to make it extra dark. They start to make out and then…  
Abel gets really nervous, causing him to stammer, an old disability from childhood. Cain lightly teases him about it, which of course only makes it worse… so they have to put things on pause for a little while to let Abel calm down. There is some cuddling on the bed and then Abel leaves with his backpack to change.  
He comes back in wearing a sheer grey robe kinda thingy, it has long sleeves and a collar, and is just long enough to cover his ass but it's also see through so Cain can see a pair of black lacy panties underneath (because of course there are black lacy panties in this fic why wouldn’t there be). Cain is like understandably, how do I put this… about to jizz his pants already. boiyoiyoiyoiyoinngggggggg  
And umm… then they have sex? Dunno? Not too eventful? Both of them are virgins so they aren’t very artful about it. There you go. There’s cuddles and angsty teenage I don’t get along with my parents stuff afterwards.

At school on Monday, Cain meets Abel in the parking lot and says that he realizes they never really agreed to be boyfriend and boyfriend? So anyway they make their relationship official and Cain gives Abel his letter jacket. Abel remarks that he also has one from his old school and will probably get one for BKHS at the end of the year. Cain is like, “pshh what did you letter in” and Abel’s like “Flute” and Cain’s like… “Flute. That’s... not nearly as cool as lettering in football” and Abel’s like “Flute is cool goddammit” and Cain’s like, “No. It’s really not.” and Abel’s like “okay i bet you that it is” and Cain’s like “you’re on” and then they go to the band hall.  
Of course Phobos is there in all his one-armed grumpy glory and gives Cain shit for being there to harrass him. Cain insists he is there to hear his boyfriend play, and as a guest of a band member “was told he was allowed on the tile” that is next to the door (the rest of the room is carpeted). Phobos is like, "um, where is this alleged boyfriend of yours" and then Abel comes out and there’s some mild glaring and hissing and then Abel fucking rocks the flute, like pulls out some crazy prodigy beat box shit and now Cain owes him a blowjob.

 

Cain and his mom get into a fight about her trading sexual favors for drugs and she kicks him out of the house. He refuses to leave, she threatens to call Vicks who has a gun. He storms into his room, packs up a duffle bag full of stuff and then comes back in. Maybe he says something like this, although it sure seems out of character but it gives me feels so whatever:  
“You listen to me, because I’m going to say something to you that you never said to me. I love you. I will love you no matter what. There is nothing that you can do, to make me stop loving you. Not even this. You can try to push me away all you want, but I’m gonna keep coming back. I don’t hate you. I hate what you’re doing to yourself. I hate this.”

He walks a few miles to Abel’s house and climbs up into his window. He explains about the fight and meekly asks Abel if he can have some food. Abel agrees to go make him a sandwich and then leaves his room, and leans against the door and cries silently because I fucking love that trope okay? Cain spends the night there (maybe Abel tops for the first time? Maybe Abel has a cool lightey upey star map on his ceiling and they make love underneath it?) but then Cain goes to stay at Encke’s for the rest of the week. The whole situation weighs heavily on Abel’s heart, and not knowing what to do and being at his wit’s end about it, he ends up asking Phobos for advice while they’re working in the band library together:

"Have you ever had a friend, that told you a secret... that was so big, and so serious... that it just ate at you? And you felt like it would be wrong not to tell anyone?" Abel asks.  
"Oh, yeah, totally,” Phobos answers. “I mean, some secrets are just too good to keep, you know?"  
"No, I don't mean like a delicious, juicy secret... I mean like a scary secret. Not just teenager drama stuff, but like... grown up stuff."  
"Well then tell a grown up. Duh,” Phobos roll his eyes.  
"But who?"  
"I dunno... Someone who would care?"

In a sea of bustling students in the main corridor of the school, Abel wrestles with the question. Someone who would care… who would that be? Then he spots Coach Bering. There's a flicker of something. All of a sudden the older man seems familiar to him somehow. He takes it as a sign. He gathers up his nerves and follows the Coach into his office.  
The anxiety of the matter makes him stammer like crazy, but he is eventually able to tell Bering what has happened through stutters and tears. Bering is surprisingly cool about the whole thing, giving Abel some  tissues and saying “Football players cry a lot more often than you might think.” He calls Abel's teacher and says he needs Abel for a “special project” hurr hurr hurr so that Abel can have time to compose himself. YES BERING IS A GOOD GUY IN THIS FIC JUST SUE ME OKAY? I WARNED YOU IN THE TAGS.

After school, Bering goes to the principal’s office and looks through Cain’s file. He looks at Cain’s mother’s name. He looks at the date upon which Cain was born. He does some quick math. He realizes it is very possible that Cain is his son. He buys a paternity test and calls Cain into his office the next day as the football team is gearing up for practice. Cain does the swab, and then Bering tells him to take two days off from practice to clear his head and get back on track with his schoolwork, and other responsibilities.

Having no rides except Encke and Abel, both at their respective practices, Cain sits outside and gets caught up on some homework while he waits for practice to let out. Abel gets out first, and Cain tells him the story of what happened in Bering’s office. Abel confesses that he’s the one that told Bering about Cain’s situation. Cain says he’s not mad, he’s just overwhelmed really at everything that’s happened that week. Abel fears that perhaps the anger will come when things don’t go the way that Cain wants.

> “Well… no matter what happens, just remember that I, a band nerd, crossed enemy lines and went to the football coach, and cried my eyes out, and stammered all over the place, and that was really hard for me. But I did it for you. So just remember that when you’re thinking about breaking up with me later.”  
>  “That… was totally not what I thought you were going to say just then.”  
>  “What did you think I was gonna say?”  
>  “I dunno…” Cain shrugs. “‘No matter what happens, just remember that I love you?’”  
>  “Oh. Well, that too. No really. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts me to see you like this. We’ve… been… together. You’re a part of me now.”  
>  “Abel… I trusted you with a secret, and you went behind my back, and--”  
>  “Well you know, Cain, sometimes, you have to trust people to do what’s right, even when it’s not what you thought was right. What kind of person would I be -- what kind of boyfriend would I be if I had just… sat by and not said anything? Is that the kind of person you wanna be with? Someone who doesn’t care about you? Who doesn’t care if you… have a bed to sleep in, or if you’re getting enough to eat?! ‘Cause if that’s what you want, then you can go back to Phobos.”  
>  Abel turns and leaves Cain standing there, going over to his bike and turning on the engine. Feeling numb, Cain turns away and starts heading in the opposite direction. But then Abel rides over to him, blocking his path with his bike. “Get on the bike.”
> 
> “What do you want?” Abel asks when they’re at the drive-in.  
>  “I love you too,” Cain answers, belatedly.  
>  Abel hugs him for like a long time, just standing there awkwardly in the little picnic area of the Sonic. “Are we gonna be okay?” he murmurs.  
>  “I don’t know if I’m gonna be okay… but… there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

 

Yep, Bering is totally Cain's dad.

Abel and Bering conspire to fix up the car for Cain. an old 1983 Datsun 280ZX that was his mom’s first car when she was 16. Bering gets a lawyer involved and convinces Cain’s mom to relinquish custody of Cain without going to court. He also buys the car from her with cash. Once all the paperwork is signed, he leaves the house and walks to his car, and hears the sound of crashing glass and metal behind him (Cain’s mom being so angry at herself for losing her son that she starts destroying stuff).

Bering invites Cain over and cooks him dinner. They actually have that in common, they’re both good cooks. I wasn’t going to go into too much detail in this fic, but in this AU, Bering is basically a Dom with multiple sub sort-of girlfriends. He’s never been married but tells Cain that he occasionally has lady-friends over and Cain is expected to be respectful of Bering’s privacy. That leads to some questions about what Cain’s allowed to do with his boyf.

Bering’s house rules

  * Curfew is related to homework. If Cain doesn’t turn in his assignments, his curfew gets restricted. Since Bering works at the school Cain isn't going to get away with ANYTHING. 
  * Allowance is pro-rated based on his average. If he gets an F, no allowance at all.
  * Bering will pay for cellphone, gas, clothes (to an extent), school supplies and sports equipment, lunch money and groceries. If Cain wants to eat out or buy really expensive designer clothes, he has to use allowance money.
  * This means Cain can quit his job and focus on school and becoming a college-level athlete.
  * When it comes to sex, Cain is expected to be safe, responsible, and respectful of his partners and also people who are nearby (when it comes to noise). Bering says that he won’t disallow sex in the house, since he’s ‘trying to make Dad of the Year’, and also that he won’t take Abel away from Cain, since Abel is probably the best thing that ever happened to him.



Cain doesn’t really mind having rules; secretly he’s sort of glad to have someone that cares enough to make some.

  
So. Finally. It’s the big night. It’s Christmas Eve. IT’S ALSO THE STATE CHAMPIONSHIP. Bering foregoes giving his players a pep speech before the game. Instead, he tells the story of himself and Cain’s mom, saying that he wants his students to hear it from him and not anyone else. Cain’s embarrassed but soldiers through it.  
So basically Bering was a freshman in college and Tara (that’s Cain’s mom’s name, after the place where Scarlett O'Hara lived) was supposed to be a senior but she’d dropped out of high school after getting caught trying to sneak alcohol into prom her junior year. Anyway, they met at this New Year's Eve party, and were drinking and making eyes at each other and then Tara invited Bering to go upstairs and get high with her. He woke up the next morning not remembering what had happened, and never found out that Tara had a kid. But the situation scared him straight, so to speak. He was always very careful about substances and sex after that, both as separate entities and together, and has always hammered the same into his students’ heads, despite being discouraged by abstinence-only education. He’d always thought of that night as a mistake, until he found out about Cain. Obviously he doesn’t think that Cain is a mistake, and the lesson learned is that even if you screw up, there’s still redemption to be had at the end of everything.

"But the thing that breaks my heart the most, is that it never occurred to Cain to come to me for help. Even if I wasn't his dad. I had to hear about it from somebody else! And so I want each and every one of you to know: if you're in trouble... if you're in over your heads... I am here for you. All of you... are my family. And that is regardless of what happens on that field tonight."

Of course they win, like what were you thinking was going to happen?

Anyway, they get back to the school late at night, the whole town's in an uproar, everyone’s excited, whooping and shouting and honking horns… Cain comes out of the locker room, laughing and playing grabass with Encke, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees a very sexy looking car, with none other than Abel in the driver’s seat, revving the engine. After studying it for a moment, he recognizes the silhouette as the Datsun his mom used to have. It’s been painted black with subtle metallic cyan accents; Abel has completely transformed it. He gets out and throws Cain the keys.

They drive back to Bering/Cain’s house, flirting and freaking out over Cain’s hot new car and the amazing game the whole way. When they’re shivering and making their way into the house to get away from the freezing cold, they notice tiny flakes of snow falling from the sky. Abel stands there and watches as some of the white flakes catch onto Cain’s black eyelashes. They share one final warm, lustful kiss, and that’s where the fic ends!!!!


End file.
